Nolta: A Mass Effect fanfic
by LT Ashler
Summary: Before he was a Colonel in the MigrantFleetMarines Nolta'Lae was a pilgrim. This story details part of his pilgrimage, his most notable accomplishments before Haestrom, and his eventual meeting with Tali'Zorah. Shep/Tali later on M: V, L, T
1. Broken

**1 Corinthians 10:31**

**

* * *

NOLTA**

**Chapter 1: Broken**

* * *

Nolta'Lae nar Ichtome was an average quarian. Granted, at nearly seven feet, he was a bit tall, but average nonetheless. He had hit the ripe age of twenty-one, embarked on his pilgrimage, and had nothing to his name beyond his environment suit, omni-tool, and a special rifle given to him by the Ichtome's captain. Yes, he was just another, inexperienced, frightened youth who'd been sent off into the unknown when the time had come.

At least, that's what he told himself as he lay on the hot, rusted metal of the catwalk. Korlus, they called this planet Korlus. How he'd gotten here, how he'd ended up in this predicament was beyond him. He recalled from his pre-departure briefings that Korlus had one of the highest per-capita murder rates in the galaxy. Not that it had all that many inhabitants… …at least, not where he was.

_Why had he even come here?_ The answer stared him in the face even as another wave of pain wracked his ribs. Inches from his mask, the brown-red rust that covered the catwalks reminded him of the graveyard that Korlus was. Not a graveyard for the living- varren and microbes made sure of that- but rather a graveyard for ships.

Countless derelict vessels had been dumped on this junkyard world, scrapped here after their most valuable components had been removed. Still, dozens of vessels were stripped of their parts hastily, and a good tech could easily find an overlooked drive core. That was why he'd come here, to find a functional, jump-capable engine.

There were hundreds of millions of tons of scrap metal covering the planet's surface, waiting to be harvested. If he could find a comm relay on one of them, he could signal the fleet to come pick him up once he'd found his quarry. Bringing a serviceable drive core back to the flotilla would require more manpower than a single quarian could muster, let alone an injured one.

Nolta's attention was drawn back to his injury as the bullet wound in his torso called to him in ever louder throbs. He looked down at the blood slicked metal underneath him. The pea sized hole below his right pectoral muscle had been easy enough to seal with medigel, but the slug was still lodged somewhere in his body.

The Quarian looked up again, noting the almost motionless form of the merc that had attacked him. She was a human female; _at least, he thought she was human._ Were it not for the shins, feet, hands and lack of environment suit, she could have been a female quarian. Nolta shuddered at the idea. _He held nothing against humans, but to_ think _of killing a fellow quarian…_

The bullet wound called out to him again. Even with the pain-numbing effect of the medi-gel, he could feel the fragments of the two millimeter round that had grazed his ribs and split into dozens of tiny pieces in his body. He let out a pained breath, the air hissing between his teeth.

The pilgrim noticed the merc stirring and instinctively reached for his rifle, grasping only air. A sharp gasp for air emanated from the woman's helmet and Nolta saw her arch her back before collapsing back to a sitting position, hunched over and clutching the right side of her chest. Fresh blood seeped from her chest plate, trailing in a tiny rivulet down the blue armor.

Nolta felt strangely compassionate towards the young woman. He didn't know much about humans, but she couldn't be too much younger than him. Her small frame and high voice had indicated as much when he'd stumbled upon her sentry position an hour before.

He reached down to his belt, struggling to ignore the protests of his injury, and withdrew a plastic tube of medigel. With a weak motion he tried to cast the container towards her, but it fell to the ground, rolling to a halt not three feet from his mask.

_Why was he trying to help her? She'd tried to kill him._ Nolta tried to dismiss his actions as being caused by the onset of infection, but he knew that that was not ultimately the case. Something prompted him, even in his current state. In the depths of his soul, Nolta knew he had no hatred for this woman, no desire to see her die.

The Quarian could barely touch the vial of medicine, but he could still flick it. The mercenary heard the small canister rolling across the rusted catwalk and tilted her head slightly up. The vial glistened in the evening sunlight as it slowed, rocking back and forth for a few moments before the weight of its contents stopped its motion.

The merc snorted. _Did the alien really think her stupid enough to try it?_

As if to answer her question, Nolta's thick brogue rasped from behind his black faceplate. "Medi… gel… yer still… bleedin'… get some o' that… over… th' wound."

She glared at him from behind her helmet. _Sick, twisted, creature. I oughtta put a slug through his skull._ She absently fumbled for her rifle, her arm weakly flopping around on the metal next to her.

"Look… ya wanna… bleed out… tha's yer business… I just… don' wanna see a lady hertin'."

The merc felt her injury throb as the blood slowly seeped out of her armor. _His rifle was a Kryr II, just like the boss's. That round should've killed her from blood loss by now._

Nolta watched as the merc gingerly touched the bullet hole in her chest plate. She felt the medigel plug he'd given her earlier, after she'd passed out. He noted the surprise in her body language as she realized that she hadn't administered the treatment.

Nolta pretended to look away. He could still see her as she cautiously picked up the vial and lifted it to her mask, grunting with effort as the pain of her wound grew stronger in her consciousness. She started to pull the helmet up and the pilgrim closed his eyes, instinctively respecting her privacy.

"Wha's yer name?" he breathed.

The merc started, momentarily forgetting her injury. "Wh- What?" She noted that the two silver lights in his mask had gone out.

"What d'… yer people call ya?"

"K-" she hesitated. _Should she really trust him? He _had_ saved her life by administering the medigel plug…_ "Kala. Kala Youri." She winced as the bullet wound reminded her of its presence.

"Sounds… almost quarian… I'm Nolta'Lae… nar Ichtome." He could hear the quiet pop of her armor being detached, _she was using the medigel. Good._ The thought caught him off-guard. _Yes he'd given it to her to use, but why did he feel relief that she was using it?_

"So," Kala repositioned herself to sit straight against the railing, giving little huffs to cope with the pain as she did so. "You, turian? Salarian?"

Despite his own wound, Nolta looked up. _Had she really never heard of a quarian?_ "Quarian… I'm a quarian."

The human's face was delicate, graced by a pert nose and small lips. Her eyes shone with a blue that out classed the aquamarine iridescence of his environment suit with ease. Despite her injury, the young woman's face radiated an air of vitality that was almost infectious. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her light hair, something he'd never seen on the fleet. Even his mother had kept her hair short, thanks to an herbal supplement.

Lae realized that he was staring at her face and quickly closed his eyes again. He felt guilty that he'd seen her visage without her consent. In quarian society, seeing another individual out of their suit, even partially, was a very intimate experience.

"Quarian? What's -ah!- What's that?"

Nolta tried to shift, his discomfort almost palpable. _How did one explain a species? Might as well start with their history._ "Ever hear 'bout… th' geth?"

She grunted, acknowledging that she had.

"Cursed AI's… drove us… from our home-world… three… hundred years ago. Now, we live on… a migrating Starfleet."

Something about the alien's manner struck her as odd. Kala finished applying the medigel to her wound and set the vial on the ground next to her. _It still seemed bizarre, talking with the person she'd shot at and been shot by not two hours ago._ "How old are you?"

Nolta's head bobbed. "Twenty-one, stell a minor. And you?"

"Ninetee- wait, a minor?"

Lae laughed, an action he immediately regretted as the bullet again announced its presence in his system. "Haven't… -Keeeeelah!- haven't finished… m' pilgrimage yet. Oh, Keelah… that burns!" Nolta shifted his weight, pulling one of his knees up to give his stomach and abdomen more room. He felt the pain in the front lessen, only for the dull ache in his back to become more pronounced. _At least it was better than a minute ago._

Kala grabbed the right half of her chest plate and snapped it back into place, grunting as the pain pushed through the buffer made by the medigel. _She hadn't radioed the base in over an hour, hopefully, patrol would show up soon…_

* * *

Captain Tokus Voran leaned against the aged bulkhead of an ancient capitol ship. The vessel had been deposited on Korlus decades ago, rusting and accumulating dust. The two tables in front of him had been scoured until the brilliant silver of white-steel shone through. They looked like ancient rectangular birdbaths, the rusted base crawling up to the lip of the flat silver.

Atop each table lay the body of one individual. One was a human female, the newest entry to his force, a young, nineteen year old female named Kala. The other was a male of a species Tokus hadn't seen in decades. A quarian.

Something in the back of his mind had reminded him that the aliens couldn't leave their suits without suffering badly. Exactly what caused them to suffer, he couldn't remember, but the fact had prevented him from allowing the surgeon to operate on the quarian.

Kala's procedure had taken very little time compared to a usual slug removal. Despite its size, the projectile hadn't fragmented inside the young woman's body, and had lodged just past one of her upper ribs, a testament to the quality of her armor considering the rifle's caliber. The Quarian's weapon had been found only a few feet from the incapacitated youth.

Tokus scratched his fringe, allowing the cartilaginous tissue to flex slightly as he pushed his hand against it. _What to do with the quarian? Umul would tell him to sell the youth as a slave._ The thought made the turian's blood boil. Eighteen years ago, he himself had been sold in the batarian slave trade. His master proved herself a cruel and heartless female krogan, a powerful beast that could have broken him in half had she so desired.

_No, the quarian would be attended to, as best they could. Mercenary or no, Tokus understood the value of life. There was little he hated more than taking the life of an innocent. He'd killed drug lords, crime gangs, other mercs, but only once had he shot a civilian._

* * *

Nolta slept atop the hot metal surface on which he had been set. His fever had grown worse since he'd been brought to the mercenary camp and now his dreams reflected that.

_The Ichtome's engine room was easily the hottest place on the ship. Roha'Lae stood in the center of the chamber, accompanied by Captain Gria'Re and Admiral Han'Gerrel. Roha's son crouched up in the support struts, hidden in the shadows of the massive coolant pipes._

"_Sending him away from the fleet is totally out of the question." Gerrel's familiar voice was just loud enough for Nolta to hear above the constant drone of the ship's propulsion systems. "He's just too valuable, too rare, to leave the fleet."_

_Roha was clearly displeased. "So what? We let him rot aboard the Ichtome? I know my boy, and he won't take kindly to being holed up aboard a single ship his whole life. He'll want to join the service or be a pilot. Besides, his gift is of no value to us if it's not put to use. Biotics have little application in civilian tasks."_

_Nolta's eyes narrowed. _They were talking about him, but why mention biotics?_ What little the youth knew about the subject consisted mostly of rumors and hearsay. It was rumored that individuals blessed with such power could level fields of enemies. _Did they really think he could do that?

"_Tael died in childbirth, we still don't know how healthy the boy will be on his own." Captain Gria voiced._

_Nolta could see his father bristle at the mention of his deceased bond-mate._

"_He's been a hale youth since the day he was born, never had so much as a cough." Roha countered. "Why should he suddenly keel over and die after stepping foot outside of the fleet?" _

_Gerrel shook his head. "Not from illness, no. You may not have noticed on your own Va'Seras, Roha, but our people are not the most popular in the galaxy; there are plenty who would be more than happy to injure us by taking one of our rarest blessings. Tell me you've at least considered _that_."_

_The soldier crossed his arms. "The boy is my son, don't you think I'm nervous about sending him on pilgrimage? Isn't every father? If he is permitted to go, he cannot be told about his gift until he returns, I acknowledge that much."_

"_Perhaps, but are you as concerned as we are? His loss would be a serious blow to our people. Besides, I think it very unlikely that he hasn't figured out that he's special by now." The Ichtome's captain let her tone drop too low for Nolta to hear. Whatever she said next was lost beneath the rumble of the machinery._

_His father responded with an air of finality. "Whether he lives aboard the ship is irrelevant, he is still _'nar' _Ichtome,_ child_ of his birth-ship. His fate is my responsibility until he takes 'vas' as his title. Until then, he is crew of no vessel. Nolta will begin his pilgrimage like every other youth his age."_

* * *

Author's Note:

**I really surprised myself with this chapter. It went into a LOT more depth concerning even the little things that I began to wonder if I were writing a parallel version of 'Pilgrimage'. Not to say that this is the same level of quality…**

**I really liked the idea of having the merc that Nolta almost killed and almost got killed by, actually talk. In the end, I grew to like her character so much that I decided to write her into the narrative as a main character.**


	2. Nightfall

**Chapter 2: Nightfall**

The Quarian's fever was raging, nearly 110 degrees. Tokus watched as the young man on the table twitched, entrapped in some vivid dream. The readouts provided by the alien's suit were incredibly thorough. Internal temperature, hydration, heart-rate, even foreign contaminants were among the myriad of values listed by the suit's VI.

The Turian watched as the various signals adjusted to match the raging battle fought by the young alien's immune system. One indicator seemed to note the breach in the suit as being of particular note, an understandable response, but at the same time, puzzling. The suit's VI seemed to think that the area around the breach was even more significant than the rupture itself.

Voran watched the miniature diagram of the quarian's outfit as it pulsed with a large red circle around the damaged material, several notes in quarian script trailing across the screen. The alien had helped one of his people, saved her, and here he was, powerless to determine why.

With a final huff of frustration, the Captain turned to face his wounded soldier. Despite the surgeon's orders she was sitting up on the table, watching the quarian's suit display. Tokus noted a concerned look on her face.

"So, what happened?"

The question caught her off-guard. "I was- oh, sorry. Sir!" She tried to snap a salute, but nearly passed out as her shoulder burned in protest.

"At ease. Your muscles aren't going to be ready to do that for a while, just give me the report."

Kala ground her teeth against the pain. "Yes, sir. At, uh…" she closed her eyes and brought her left hand to her forehead. "…um, nineteen-hundred hours I think, I heard a noise, he came around the corner." She indicated the unconscious alien on the table along the other wall. "I panicked, shot almost a half clip at him before I regained my senses."

"And your injury?" the Captain prompted.

"He squeezed off a few rounds, I guess in self-defense." She hung her head. "One of his shots nailed me here, knocked me out cold. When I came to, he was lying there on the deck. He'd plugged us both with medigel. Then patrol showed up."

Tokus nodded. A moment of silence passed between them. "Do you still think mercenary work is for you?"

Kala let her eyes trail the deck, contemplating the question.

"I'm not asking you to quit," his statement was serious but calm. "I'm asking you to give this serious thought. It's not a job to take lightly. If you can handle it, I want you on my team. If you're not cut out for the job, there's no point in risking your life or the life of others."

The incision flared up in her consciousness, screaming for her attention. Youri closed her eyes momentarily, trying to banish the pain. She was tough, she'd grown up in a military family, but that didn't mean she was meant for it. The Quarian resurfaced in her thoughts, a welcome distraction from the biting sensation in her shoulder and ribs.

"Are you going to kill him?"

Tokus noted the shift in topic, but decided to allow it, she needed to think over her answer anyways. "Not unless he gives me reason to. He hasn't attacked anyone besides you, and you called it self-defense. He's got a pretty nasty fever though. One Ten."

Kala's brow furrowed, a mixture of concern and confusion present on her face. "But… Shouldn't medigel have taken care of any germs or whatever?"

Voran noted sweat beginning to bead on her forehead, _Her wound was causing her some serious pain._ He set a firm hand on her shoulder, "Lie down, you're only hurting yourself like this."

"But, I…"

The Captain shook his head, indicating that he would accept no contradiction.

XxXxX

Gatatog Mygur had maintained his vigil long enough. The small blue suns outpost was down by one of its garrison and taking care of two individuals. The medical staff were rarely noncombatants in blue suns groups, meaning that both the surgeon and the nurse would have been available to fight were it not for their charge.

With three of their number out of the picture, the small outpost was only at three quarters strength. Mygur began the hour long walk back to base camp, picking his way across jagged scrap. The Krogan felt the rusty metal scratch against his thick hide, trying vainly to pierce the though scales on his face and arms. _The Turian had held that piece of real-estate long enough, it was time to strike._

XxXxX

Nolta's fever broke at 0300 hours that morning. The young quarian woke up incredibly sore. He could feel the salty grime on his face left behind by his own sweat as he tried to see in the darkened room. A solitary orange light glowed from a hologram display to his right. Kala lay on the table across from him, a rolled up blanket under her head serving as a pillow.

He reached for his omni-tool, only to discover that the device had been stripped from his forearm. _Tuho! Without his omni-tool, he'd be unable to check his-_ The Pilgrim saw the information on the display and realized exactly where his omni-tool had gone. The device was currently linked with the monitor and displaying exactly the information he needed to see.

Despite his fatigue, Nolta's eyes flitted from one entry to the next, checking his blood count, internal toxins, heart-rate, and temperature. A quick slide of his finger across the omni-tool's holographic surface showed him a graph of his own vitals, showing him exactly what his body had been doing over the past several hours.

Lae noted that his temperature had soared for several hours, averaging 110, but peaking at 113. _His temperature was back down to normal, 99.5, his heart-rate had fluctuated all over the place during the night, but was now normal, his blood count…_ Nolta frowned, _His blood count was a full two pints below average. No wonder he felt lightheaded._ He groaned and laid back down, detaching his omni-tool from the holo projector.

XxXxX

The blue suns mercenary camp lay in a small, rare patch of exposed soil. Three tents rested in a triangular formation. Two of these shelters housed three soldiers at a time, the third guarded the camp's commanding officer. Fifteen feet to the right of the trio of tents rested the outpost's primary base- a large derelict spacecraft with reinforced bulkheads.

Tokus was unable to sleep. Korlus' hot atmosphere remained oppressive, even during the night, but that was not the cause of his restlessness. The garrison's physician had done a thorough scan of the quarian, or rather, had tried to. The doctor's equipment kept malfunctioning every time it approached the alien's spinal column. The suit was not responsible, that had been easy enough to get readings on, but medical scanners seemed to have a particularly tough time getting a readout of the quarian's nervous system.

Voran heard a small click at the outside of his tent and instinctively reached for the pistol next to his mat, but grabbed only air. His gut instinct proved dead on, as a knife pierced the tough fabric of his shelter a moment later. Tokus cursed under his breath at the realization that the pistol had been left in the medical room. His mandibles flared and his eyes narrowed. Slight tearing noises accompanied the motion of the knife.

Moments later, a thick, reddish-brown arm burst through the fabric of his tent. The Captain recognized the limb immediately. _Krogan_. The position of the alien's thumb revealed that it was the alien's right arm. Before the krogan could withdraw the limb, Tokus grabbed the wrist, forced the arm down to the ground, and slammed all of his weight down on it with one foot.

Even the dense bones of a krogan couldn't withstand the sudden, focused impact, and the merc heard a familiar 'snap' as the both the krogan's radius and ulna fractured. To his credit, the krogan did not scream, but rather emitted a soft howl. Tokus saw the knife drop from the krogan's hand and grasped the weapon, just before the beast charged through the front of the tent, shredding the camouflaged material.

The Captain leapt to the side, barely avoiding the alien's grasp. Tokus dove out of the tent, the krogan's knife still in his hand. He watched as the Krogan stumbled in the tent, tripping over various bedclothes.

"Everyone to stations!"

Tokus heard the sentry's call and huffed. _So, the blood pack were finally making their move._ He waited a few more seconds as the krogan became more entangled in the tough fabric of the tent, then launched his attack.

After his servitude under Sketa, Tokus had spent a significant amount of time studying hand to hand combat, specifically with krogan. There was precious little data on the subject, as few persons dared attempt what was widely considered an exercise in stupidity. Despite this, he was easily one of the most knowledgeable concerning the topic. He knew their weak points, and, more importantly their habits.

The particular krogan that had chosen his tent was only lightly armored, in all likelihood, a decision made to increase his ability to sneak around. Whatever the reason, it meant the alien wouldn't suffer the reduced mobility that would have given Voran the kind of edge he'd prefer.

XxXxX

Mygur's choice of tents had been deliberate. He'd seen the 'vaulted' canopy of the shelter and knew immediately that the outpost's commanding officer would have taken this as his residence. What he hadn't known was that the commanding officer was not asleep when he chose to attack, costing him not only the element of surprise and the chance to deal with the soldier silently, but also the use of an arm.

The Gatatog clan member cursed his luck. _He _would_ choose a turian who knew just where to apply force to break his bones._ In his blood-rage, the krogan had managed to thoroughly entangle himself in the officer's tent and had forced the splintered bone through the surface of his skin. The piercing fire that radiated through his arm was soon eclipsed by the feel of warm blood traveling down the back of his neck.

XxXxX

The spines, or rather spinal columns, were the key weak-spots that Voran would have to exploit first. The Krogan's eyes were covered, but the creature's keen sense of smell and hearing were still available to him. Tokus scooped a handful of dirt and threw it over himself as he charged his would-be assassin. The soil of Korlus (what little there was) bore a singular reek, one that would easily mask his presence to the alien's nose.

As he leapt into the air, the Captain could hear the loud cracks of gunfire starting to saturate the air. _Perfect, now, as far as the krogan was concerned, he was invisible._ Tokus landed on the alien's back, aiming the knife for a very specific part of the krogan's neck.

The Krogan roared as the turian landed on his back. Flail as he might, the beast could not shake his assailant and moments later, a warm trickle ran down his throat. Tokus saw the krogan's arm whip up and grab at the tent material covering his head. A deafening rip sounded as the fabric gave, taking Tokus with it.

The Turian landed on his feet, but was immediately dealt a savage blow as the krogan whirled around, swinging his arm into the merc's midsection like a sledgehammer. Voran flew back, catapulted across the small courtyard by the krogan's prodigious strength.

He hit the bulkhead and his world went black.

Author's Note:

**Writing a hand to hand fight with a krogan was very much like what the actual action would be like- dangerous and difficult. Making it believable was a challenge unto itself, Krogan are easily the most dangerous h2h combatants in the galaxy, and even a turian would shy away from such a fight… unless that turian was Tokus :). This scene reminded me of Eric Nylund's writing style, in both "The Fall of Reach" and "First Strike" he wrote the Chief's h2h fights with elites as incredibly tough, something that grated on me since it's relatively easy to dispatch elites in the campaign. Krogan, on the other hand… you just don't want to get close to…**


	3. The Gift

**Chapter 3: The Gift**

Nolta heard the gunfire outside and felt his pulse increase. _He had to calm down! Panic would get him nowhere. Look where it got Kala._ The headache started to come back as the blood pushed through his skull harder than it had mere seconds ago. Lae could hear each pulse as it coursed through his veins. _Calm. Down._

Kala stirred on the table across from him, the staccato cracks of gunshots invading her sleep. The Merc was dressed only in fatigues and Nolta sensed his heart pound even harder as he recalled having seen her face earlier. _Of all the things to get worked up over in a war-zone-_

A soft 'whoosh' hissed as the medical room's door slid open, revealing a pair of very angry vorcha. Kala shook her head as she recognized the belts the aliens wore. _Blood Pack!_ With a sharp grunt, she rolled off of her table, stifling a cry as she hit the bulkhead.

The Vorcha leaned forward, trying to adjust its eyes to the almost pitch black light of the room. Nolta instinctively scurried back at the sight of the strange alien's gleaming teeth, each easily three centimeters long and tipped in wicked points. A rasping laugh emerged from one of the vorcha as it sighted on the quarian.

"Not Blood Pack, not li-"

The alien's voice was cut short as a series of pistol shots lit the room. Several small holes appeared in the creature's chest and it slumped to the ground. Nolta jerked his head towards the source of the shots and found Kala, doubled over from the pain of her wound clutching the sidearm in her good hand.

The remaining vorcha snarled and launched itself at Lae. Out of instinct, the pilgrim threw his arms forward, trying to ward off the crazed alien. To his surprise, the impact never came. It only took a second, but something hit the vorcha as it vaulted towards him. Nolta thought he saw the creature reeling back, as though someone had punched it in the gut. The Quarian blinked several times, unsure if he was dreaming.

The sharp report of the pistol caught the stunned attacker twice in the side and once in the head, sending it to the rusted deck.

Kala winced as she rested against the wall before looking over at her companion. A look of curiosity mixed with fear and exhaustion crossed her face. "How… how did you… do that?" She panted.

Nolta raised an eyebrow, though she couldn't see it through the mask. _Do what?_

XxXxX

Mygur let the left side of his mouth curl up in a snarl. The Turian lay limp against the bulkhead of the old cruiser. As far as the krogan could tell, the alien was not longer breathing. _Still, never hurts to be certain._ Mygur reached for his rifle, only to find that it had been knocked loose in the struggle. A trio of slugs sung past, narrowly missing his head.

The krogan turned to face the origin of the weapons fire only for another series of rounds to streak past. One of the shots caught on the handle of the knife that was still embedded in his neck. He lurched as the blade of the knife was wrenched across one of his spinal cords, severing his connection to his left leg and arm. A loud whump resulted from his collision with the turf beneath him, unable to maintain his balance. An instant later, another burst of rifle fire drilled into his crest, stealing his consciousness.

XxXxX

Tokus' vision was swimming as he regained consciousness, his lungs burned for air and his ribs were cracked. The Blood Pack soldier's quickness had not been surprising, nor had the strength of the blow he'd received. What had surprised him was the alien's ability to tear through several layers of tent canvas like tissue paper. Even among the stronger krogans he'd seen, such a feat would have taken at least two to three seconds. This one's motion had been near instantaneous.

Clenching his jaw against the protests of his ribcage, Voran lifted himself to his feet and hobbled over to the remains of his tent. The Krogan lay on the ground halfway to the shredded shelter, his bulky form looking like so much dirt heaped onto the planet's filthy surface.

Half of the knife's hilt still protruded from the beast's neck, its shattered shape suggesting that an explosion or rifle round had struck it. The Captain completed the short walk to his mangled shelter and found a black-red rifle. After satisfying himself that the weapon was in good repair, Tokus made a beeline for the medical room. _This lone krogan was certainly not the only attacker, and the rest of the blood pack would stumble upon the medical room sooner or later._

XxXxX

Out of eighteen Blood Pack mercenaries, six were left. All but three of the assaulting force had been vorcha, two of these being a pair of krogan hand-picked by Mygur himself. Now, five vorcha and one krogan remained. The Blue Suns had suffered significant losses as well. From their full complement of twelve, the outpost had been reduced to five effectives, Tokus included.

When the Mercenary Captain arrived on the sentry level, two of his remaining soldiers were pinned by the remaining krogan. In the dim light, it took him a moment to recognize the soldiers as the outpost's doctor and sniper. Every few seconds, one of the mercs would pop from cover in a different location, just long enough to fire a few rounds to keep the krogan at bay.

With the arrival of their Captain, the two mercs decided it was time to press their luck. The sniper leaned out of cover and loosed a trio of slugs at their oppressor in quick succession as the surgeon vaulted from his hiding spot, loosing a full-auto fullisade in the hulking beast's general direction.

The sniper took a second too long to retreat to safety, and Tokus was splashed by a spray of gore as the krogan's shotgun pulverized his soldier's skull. With a shout, Voran joined his rifle fire with the doctor's, cutting into the attacker's thick hide. The krogan stumbled as a torrent of metal sliced deep into his body, destroying his insides. A second later, the hulking beast tumbled to the ground, clutching his entrails.

The doctor was panting when Tokus laid a hand on his shoulder. With a quick glance, the Captain wordlessly asked if there was anything that could be done for his fallen soldier, knowing full well that it was pointless. The surgeon answered with a somber shake of his head.

XxXxX

The outpost was indefensible. Tokus knew this as soon as his remaining personnel reported in. One rifleman, one shot-gunner, the doctor and himself were all that was left of his force. Too few to maintain an effective resistance. The last few vorcha had been easy enough to dispatch, but the Blood Pack had soldiers to throw away. This simple fact had caused him to decide that his outpost was lost.

He briefly considered calling dispatch, but dismissed the idea. _Umul would tell him to hold the position anyways._ The Captain found himself grimacing, not only at the thought of the batarian officer, but at the dull ache that throbbed in his ribs. _Odds were, the bones were only cracked, rather than cleanly broken._ He shook his head. _Clean breaks were vastly preferable, cracked bones tended to heal with nodules along their outer surfaces, causing complications elsewhere. He'd probably have to have his bones deliberately broken later to help them heal properly._

Tokus entered the medical room where Kala and the quarian were resting. The sudden increase in brightness as the Captain flicked on the lights rendered both unable to see for several seconds. Almost immediately, he caught sight of the vorcha on the floor, both riddled with several bullet wounds. From the looks of things, the aliens had been killed before their bodies had a chance to regenerate.

Kala sheepishly offered the sidearm she'd used to dispatch the creatures. "You forgot this here, sir."

To her surprise, the Captain held up his hands, declining the weapon. "You've earned it kid. Taking out a pair of attackers while wounded, not easy."

Kala couldn't be sure, but she thought she caught a glimmer in his eyes, almost like they were smiling. "I… I didn't do everything, Nolta helped."

The Quarian on the other table started. "Not really, you did all the shooting."

The Turian turned to face the pilgrim and noted that the small hole in the enviro-suit had been patched with a material similar to that found on the rest of the outfit. Nolta groaned as he laid back down.

"Whatever the case, we aren't staying here any longer, Blood Pack took out more than our personnel, so we're bugging out."

"But what about dispatch? They can send us reinforcements," Kala's voice was energetic despite her injury. Tokus shook his head. _The brief encounter with the vorcha had put her in a combat high, she'd still be running off of adrenaline for another few minutes. Still, he had to admire her spunk, impetuous though she was._

"Just lay back down, get rested up before we move out. We're relocating, and if dispatch has a problem with it, they can fire me. I'm not about to lose more people."

As he left the room, Voran checked his omni-tool for his pay stub. He hadn't become a merc for the money, he'd done it to out of a sense of duty. By the time he'd escaped his slavery, the Turian military had refused him on the grounds that he was suffering from a form of PTSD. Undeterred, he'd joined the Blue Suns, thinking they were the next best thing. In reality, they were just as crooked as any crime syndicate.

Still, he'd been able to keep his little band of soldiers on the straight and narrow, relatively speaking. The data on his pay stub finally pulled up. His next payment was due in four hours. He'd displace once it had cleared. The Citadel was an expensive place if you wanted to stay out of sight of the dregs and denizens that prowled the lower wards, and they'd need quality treatment for the quarian, someone who knew about their physiology.

The Turian typed a series of keys on his omni-tool, patching through the outpost's comm relay. "Serk, Voran here, I need to call in a favor."

The other turian's voice rang through the headset loud enough to cause the Captain to reel back. "Tokus! It's been too long! Whaddya need?"

XxXxX

Tokus' friend Serk had provided them with a transport craft to the citadel free of charge. The Mercenary Captain knew that if there were any place other than the migrant fleet where a doctor that could treat quarians could be found, it was here. He'd briefly asked himself why he was undergoing this inconvenience for someone he didn't know, but the memory of Kala's words reminded him swiftly. The Quarian had saved one of his people, and he was going to return the favor.

XxXxX

Dr. Sara Rommel was a young woman with brown hair and brilliant eyes that reminded Nolta of one of the artificial lakes he'd seen in pictures of the presidium. She was busy conversing with the mercenary Captain, who had taken a seat next to his injured sentry.

Nolta kept his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep.

"Your surgeon did a fine job," Rommel's voice rolled from her tongue like silk. Nolta relished the gentle sound, interpreted as it was by his helmet's audio filters. "Your sentry will be back on her feet in about two weeks, though I must express the concern that she not be allowed to move her right shoulder for at least a week afterwards.

"Frankly you should be more worried about yourself. That blow to your chest cracked several ribs, they'll have to be shaved or broken completely."

Tokus nodded. "Never mind me, I've fought krogan before, this isn't the worst I've suffered."

Sara looked at him, incredulous. "Hand to hand?"

Voran nodded once. "Won too. This was the third, though I didn't quite land the killing blow. What about the quarian?"

The doctor's lively tone dropped before she answered. "If you have any attachment to him, keep him well guarded, even after he gets back on his feet. He's… special."

"Kala mentioned something to that effect. Said he pushed a vorcha back a good ten feet- without touching it."

The doctor nodded. "You mentioned how your equipment kept bugging when you tried to scan his nervous system? There is a multitude of element zero nodules on his spinal column. What you have here is a quarian biotic."

Tokus nodded. "The thought crossed my mind, dismissed it though, didn't think they could be- Biotics that is."

"They can, they're just incredibly rare."

Nolta's head swirled. _They were talking about him, but why mention biotics?__ What little he knew about the subject consisted mostly of rumors and hearsay. It was rumored that individuals blessed with such power could level fields of enemies. __Did they really think he could do that?_

Author's Note:

**Coming up with different names can be a real bear sometimes. I truly get sick of reading a book and finding that every fourth character is named "John" or "Jill" or some-such generic nominative. Still, one must fall back on the old mainstays occasionally to maintain a degree of familiarity for the reader, in this case, "Sara".**


	4. Pilgrim

**Chapter 4: Pilgrim**

The Krogan's olive crest gleamed in the dim, orange light of the garage. A distinctive odor of oil and hydraulic fluid permeated the machine shop, mixing with the squalid scent of the ancient space station to form a sickly metal-laced perfume that enveloped every corner. Sparks flared from the welding torch as he melted two metal panels together. Around him sat the remains of a speeder engine, various parts and pieces strewn around the counters to either side.

He could hear the alien before he saw her, even over the ceaseless noise of the welding, cutting and passersby.

"Hello?"

From the slight flanging in her voice he guessed that she was turian. _Don't see too many females of their kind here._ Krovak Torr turned to face the alien expecting to see the familiar light-brown, toughened skin of a young turian female, but was surprised to find himself staring at a quarian.

The young woman was obviously nervous talking to the hulking beast, but determined to accomplish something. "Are you the manager?"

The Krogan flipped up his welding visor and introduced himself. "Owner, manager, and chief mechanic. Krovak Torr." He gave a slight dip of his head. "What do ya need fixed?"

"I was wondering if I could find work here."

Torr tilted his head. "On Omega? Your people send you here for pilgrimage now?" _He was familiar with the quarian reputation for their prowess in mechanical and engineering fields, but to see a young woman of their kind on Omega taxed his credulity._

"Not exactly," her manner was quiet and reserved, uncertain. "I'd rather not talk about it…"

"You in trouble with someone?" Torr's topaz eyes gleamed, almost as if he were amused. She shook her head and the monster huffed. "Ah, never mind, this is Omega, you can get in trouble with someone for _breathing_ the wrong way."

The Quarian remained silent, her discomfort palpable.

"Relax, I don't bite, not anymore at any rate. Bad for business."

The Quarian stepped back involuntarily. Torr gave a hearty laugh, a sound that reverberated through her body and drew the attention of several of the persons walking by.

"What's your name pilgrim?"

"Rikka," she said simply.

"Rikka what? You Quarians' names are longer than that." He registered her surprise as her head jerked back momentarily. "You don't get to be as old as me without learning about the cultures around you. The information finds you sooner or later, whether you're looking for it or not. Now," he prompted. "What's your full name?"

"Rikka'Nall." Her answer came out as little more than a whisper, but the krogan's sharp ears picked it up as though she'd said it for all to hear.

"That's better." He grinned, leaning back against the workbench. "Well miss Nall, if you want to work for old Krovak Torr, he'll need to know what you specialize in."

The mention of business seemed to liven the young woman's mood. "I'm uh… a tech, work with engines mostly, but I've… dealt with weapons, shields, omni-tools, scanners. You name it, I've probably… tinkered with it at some time or other."

The ancient krogan nodded approvingly, then, grabbed a component from the counter and tossed it to her. "Take a look."

Rikka caught the part and momentarily staggered under the weight before hefting it up to the work-bench next to her. The Krovak clan member watched as she rotated the piece, carefully tracing the markings with her fingers.

"Not gonna ask what's wrong with it?"

Her reply was almost terse, "If I can't pin it, you don't need me."

A moment later she completed her examination of the component, flipped her omni tool on and began disassembling the piece, talking as she worked. "Volus make, Yun Lal, mark II, discontinued four decades ago."

The Krogan's eyes widened, as did his grin. "How old're you kid?"

"Twenty." She continued her task, loosening a trio of bolts and removing a small gear from the assembly. "You get used to identifying anything and everything mechanical or electrical when you work as a tech on the fleet." She held out an empty hand expectantly. "Omni-gel?"

Torr's grin reached the back of his crest; had Rikka been looking at him, she'd have thought his face about to split in two. A moment later, he produced a canister of the stuff, handing it to her as he watched a series of lights dance across her omni-tool, prepping the fabrication process. Less than three minutes had passed before she'd finished the repair. "Gears were worn down, spun until the motor's capacitors burned out." She handed the re-assembled component to Torr. "Did a simple bypass, looped enough coils of wire to hold a decent charge. It's a temporary fix, but it should last a couple of weeks, or until you get a new capacitor."

The Mechanic shook his head slowly as he accepted the part. "Thirty-five an hour sound fair? I know it's not much, but I could throw in lodging, 'long's you don't mind sleeping in a guest room."

Rikka's eyes danced behind her faceplate. _Thirty-five an hour! Few quarians could garner 20!_ "Absolutely!"

"Good!" He gave a sharp nod and brought his fists together with a loud whump, a traditional krogan gesture used to seal a pact or agreement. "I'll take you back when the shop closes. 'Till then, amuse yourself, tinker with whatever you like in that pile over there, mostly broken, so it's not getting used."

XxXxX

For the first time since escaping captivity, Tokus Voran, mercenary Captain, did not know what to do. Everything he'd done after becoming a free man was something he had planned, accounted for, or anticipated in advance. _Combat was something you had to improvise in, but even there, there was a set of rules, of guidelines, a general formula that, while it never fit the situation perfectly, was often a solid base with which to implement your tactics._

He'd been planning to leave the Blue Suns once he'd accumulated enough financial cushion, and after he'd ensured that alt least half of his team wasn't going to hop to the nearest brothel on his departure. Now that he was technically AWOL, he would be forced to either lie, leave, or tell the truth and take the reprimand, demotion and pay cut. Ultimately, the turian knew what his decision would end up being, but in the meantime he'd check in on his tag-along biotic.

Dr. Rommel had stationed guards inside the clinic, something that surprised even the grizzled mercenary that Tokus had become. _He'd heard of 'high value targets' of course, even taken down a few himself, but this seemed extreme. Was a quarian biotic really _that _rare?_

Tokus caught sight of the doctor in her office and decided to swing by before continuing on to his chat with Nolta. Before he had even gotten within ten feet, Sara swung her chair around to face him. The Merc caught sight of a small mirror to the left side of the desk.

"Before you ask about the guards, someone's been tracking our friend. Called me this morning to remind me just how valuable any biotic is, to say nothing of a quarian."

The Captain's eyes narrowed. "No name obviously," his words sounded less a question than a statement.

Sara shook her head. "None. No trace according to C-sec." She snorted. "Of course, they weren't monitoring my channel _either_." The derision in her last statement was painfully obvious, even to Tokus' tired ears.

"Do you have him in custody?" The question was part satire, part serious.

"No, just under guard."

"If the guards don't know what he's capable of, I'd like to speak with him alone."

Sara pursed her lips and looked down resting, her chin in her hand. "You brought him to me, you have responsibility until he regains full use of his facilities." Almost as an afterthought, she stopped him as he started for the door. "You know how people become biotics?"

He shook his head.

"Let me tell you first, he'll want to know."

XxXxX

The Quarian was busy researching the citadel using the extranet browser on his omni-tool when the mercenary captain entered the room. Kala rested on the couch in the corner, a rare luxury for any private clinic, though less so on the citadel. Both acknowledged his entry; Nolta with a nod and Kala with a stiff salute.

Tokus waved his hand and shook his head, signaling his subordinate that the action was unnecessary. "We're AWOL, no need to hold to SOP."

The young woman nodded and slowly lowered herself back to the couch.

"So," The Captain addressed the quarian. "Your name is Nolta?"

The alien nodded. "Nolta'Lae."

"Kala told me you pushed one of those vorcha a good ten feet without touching it," He tilted his head towards the young woman in the corner. "You know you could do that?" Odds were, Nolta hadn't even been told he was a biotic, probably for his own protection.

The Quarian shook his head, his voice seemed distant, almost as though he were reminiscing. "Ferst time 've ever done anithin' like et. Always been strong though. If that vorcha'd gotten too close, he'd a had a few missin' teeth."

"He did."

"Eh, figures. Get shot en th' head…"

"Not from bullets." Tokus shook his head. "What do you know about biotics?"

"Not much." Nolta struggled not to say more. _He'd heard the doctor's discussion with the turian, but he couldn't let on, not until he knew for certain._ "Why?"

"Biotics are individuals with large concentrations of element zero in their nervous system. You're familiar with how mass effect based technology works?"

A curt nod answered the query.

"Of course you do, you're a quarian. Anyways, biotics can use the electrical impulses produced in the nervous system to run a current through these deposits of eezo, lets them generate their own mass effect fields."

Nolta listened intently. _He'd heard that biotics were often associated with drive core detonations, but he'd always assumed that the exposure changed the body chemistry somehow. Evidently that association was-_

"Usually, individuals are exposed to the eezo in-utero, drive core detonations, refinery leaks, things like that. The mother breathes it in, eats contaminated food, absorbs it through the skin, whatever. The thing is, the fetus is usually killed or mutated by the exposure."

_So drive core detonations were linked, just not the way he'd thought._

"And that," Tokus continued, "is why _you_ are so rare. Your mother had to have left her environment suit at some point during her pregnancy, some point that just so happened to coincide with an extremely significant exposure to element zero."

_Nolta had always known his father was hiding something from him; the explanation for his mother's death had never truly stuck. Now, he had a pretty good idea of the truth._

Author's note:

**To the grammar Nazis: "his words sounded less a question than a statement" I chose to write the sentence this way. It is not a grammatical, error, but a stylistic choice, helping reinforce the stiff tone of the scene. **

**For those who couldn't tell by the line at the end of the chapter, Nolta plans to have a fairly lengthy chat with his father upon his return to the fleet.**


	5. Shop Work

**Chapter 5: Shop work**

Two weeks later:

The speeder's repair had been commissioned by a small rider gang of batarians. The vehicle was custom outfitted, with several specialized parts and programs, but nothing the young woman kneeling next to it couldn't handle.

Rikka took the knife and sliced a length of soft tubing from the spool. She checked the measurement one final time, trimmed the excess length from the piping, and affixed the flexible material to the coolant ports on either end of the engine compartment. _Technically this was Solomon's job. He was the assistant mechanic, her charge was electrical work. She didn't mind though. So long as she could earn some income and a place to stay, she'd do the work assigned to her._

_Besides,_ she thought, _it's right up my alley._ The Quarian waited the mandatory fifteen seconds for the sealant to harden, then gave a gentle pull on the newly attached coolant hose. _Snug as a new drive belt._ Rikka heard the heavy footfalls of Krovak Torr and stood up as she turned to face him.

"Where's Solomon? I've got a new task for him." His deep voice rolled through the room, a complacent expression on his colossal visage.

Rikka gestured towards the back room and dusted her hands. "He's on break, asked me to patch the new coolant line."

Torr frowned. "'Course he did. Lazy varren likes assigning his tasks to everyone but himself."

"I don't mind, really, I'm earning my keep, that's what I'm here to do."

The Krogan nodded approvingly. "Sounds like they didn't even need to send you on pilgrimage, already got it all worked out."

Rikka shifted, revealing a series of stains along the beige-gray shop cloth covering her front. "That's not the point of our pilgrimage. The fleet is always struggling for resources, we have to bring back something of value."

Torr waved a massive paw dismissively. "That's only half of it. Believe me, it's as much a learning experience as a scavenger hunt- no offense."

Rikka tilted her head, considering the alien's words. "I never really thought of that."

The ancient Krovak warrior nodded once then proceeded to the back room where Solomon had allegedly taken refuge from his work. Rikka turned back to the speeder and knelt in front of the engine block. She perused the machinery underneath the hood, checking for loose connections or faulty parts. The young woman's brief inspection turned up several bad connections in the nav system, all of which were easily rectified.

A minute later, with that task done, Rikka turned her attention to the programs in the speeder's personal computer. Several of the programs were standard fare, a few were custom programs she didn't recognize but was still able to troubleshoot for any errors.

XxXxX

Nolta's recovery was progressing quickly, enough for him to begin taking walks unassisted, but not enough for Kala to let him out of her sight. Despite their less-than-amicable meeting, the two were becoming fast friends. Tokus thought he might even be seeing the signs of a youthful infatuation on the girl's part, though Nolta appeared completely oblivious to it.

The Captain followed the pair at a distance, just far enough so as not to invade their privacy, but at the same time close enough to keep an eye on them. Nolta's gait was still somewhat stilted, and Kala seemed all too happy to take his arm in an offer of support. Voran noticed an asari smiling as she watched the pair before she caught his own gaze.

Her ivory teeth flashed as she addressed him. "Good to see something sweet like that, refreshing after all the news of death and destruction out in the colonies."

Tokus nodded as he slowed to avoid appearing suspicious. _Following what was ostensibly a young couple out for a leisurely stroll wouldn't win any points with C-sec._

The asari glanced back at the two aliens before returning her gaze to the view of the wards' massive skyscrapers. The Captain strolled past her, appearing to divert his course from Nolta and Kala until he was out of sight of the alien.

XxXxX

Five days later:

Rikka had just finished her break when they arrived. Five batarian males, all fairly young, the owners of the speeder she'd worked on a few days ago. Krovak Torr stepped out from behind a speeder chassis as the group approached.

"It done?" The largest of the group demanded. Rikka could tell even from the other side of the room that the young batarian thought himself king of Omega.

The krogan nodded and handed the vehicle's keycard over to the young man who impatiently took it and strolled over to the vehicle. Rikka edged closer as the batarian inserted the card and tapped the ignition. A moment later, the engine coughed and the exhaust grille spat out a small, acrid cloud of black smoke. The batarian swore and tried to start the engine again, this time eliciting a groan and a series of electrical arcs from the craft. Rikka watched as the alien leapt from the speeder, clutching one of his hands.

"What the f-" another loud crack cut the batarian off mid-expletive as the speeder began to waft violet smoke. A cold gleam filled the alien's eyes. "You tryin' to kill me or something!"

Torr had already crossed the distance to the craft and was busily running a diagnostic on its engine. "Drive was faulty," he said a minute later. "Properly installed, but I can give you a full refu-"

"Shut the hell up!" The ringleader bellowed.

Torr's words died in his throat as the riders drew their firearms in unison. _He wasn't afraid of the batarians, but being unarmed himself, he saw no point in provoking them by speaking any further._

"Who installed the part?"

Torr was about to do _something_ when Rikka's distinctive voice sounded through the room.

"I did."

The krogan gave a sharp shake of his head and fixed his gaze on the young woman. _What was she talking about? Solomon had installed the engine._

As one, the rider gang trained their weapons on the quarian. Before any of them could pull the trigger, however, the young woman opened fire with her own pistol. The shot went wide of the group, eliciting an evil grin from the gang's leader. Torr was about to charge him when a colossal 'thump' echoed just to the right of the main group of aliens, an overpressure wave blasted out from the source of the sound, knocking the batarians from their feet.

A series of smaller explosions sounded as two of the batarians' weapons detonated in their hands, enveloping them in caustic flames. The Krogan caught sight of Rikka's omni-tool pulsing rapidly as she brought her pistol back to eye-level, scanning the room.

The lead batarian had taken cover behind the now-inert speeder and squeezed off a pair of shots at the quarian, but the bullets simply ricocheted off of her shields. A cold realization gripped him as the young woman sighted on him and pulled the trigger.

An instant later, the last of the gang dropped to the ground, one hole in his head and two in his chest. Torr walked over to the charred corpses and saw the fragments of the gas canister that his newest employee had utilized as an impromptu explosive. He turned to the eldest batarian's body and noted the three-shot pattern. _Two to the heart, one to the brain. That was professional shooting._

"So," he grinned, "You're not really a pilgrim after all, are ya?"

Rikka sat down on the bare floor, only now realizing what she'd just done. She shakily stowed her side-arm before responding. "I... I am. My father is a… squad leader in the Migrant Fleet Marines. He always made sure I spent time… practice shooting each week."

Torr could see that she was contemplating the event and pressed no further questions. _Likely that was her first kill, instinct had taken over when the batarians had trained their weapons on her. She'd need time to work it out, but she'd just saved his livelihood, he could afford to give her a break._

XxXxX

"I've told you a lot about my people, but et strikes me that you haven't told me much about yerself." Nolta's thick brogue rolled from behind his mask.

Kala smiled up at him. _She_ loved _his accent. That was _part_ of the reason she preferred to have him do most of the talking._ "There's not much to tell, really, grew up on Elysium, moved out at eighteen, joined the Blue Suns a few months after I got tired of my day job."

"Which was?"

The young woman blushed. "I was a holographer."

Nolta caught the embarrassment in her voice and body language. "Yer brengin' the world t' people who can't go out there themselves. What's so shameful about that?"

Kala's expression turned to a sheepish grin. "The, uh, subject matter. My folks weren't too… fond of it."

"War then?" He knew better, but hoped to ease the matter.

"Nudes. Mostly male…" She cringed and turned her face away.

Lae felt a nervous smile crossing his own face. "I, can see how that'd be… uncomfertable."

"Yeah."

They stood in awkward silence for a few minutes, trying to forget the subject. Nolta finally spoke. "What's et like, Elysium that es?"

Kala was grateful for the change in subject. "I only ever saw the capitol city once. It was really nice though. Lots of white and silver towers, wide plazas, lots of planters everywhere. They have to keep a full garden staff on to keep the plants from overgrowing the walkways. Ton of people too, had to push your way through crowd's so thick you'd think there was a parade or something."

"Sounds like the fleet, really crowded, now a whole lot 'o personal space."

"Back at home, we lived in a little place my family built before the planet got as… big as it is now."

Nolta mulled over her words. "So, you lived as a civilian, among civilians, what made you tern to mercenary werk?"

Kala huffed and a despondent look crossed her face. "One of my photo-shoots was- I- I don't really want to talk about it."

"Fair enough, we all have secrets." Nolta smirked to himself. "I only lerned mine a few day ago."

Author's note:

I'm starting to find that if written properly; 'fluff' ceases to be fluff. Even seemingly irrelevant scenes can contain significant or important scraps of information. Done the right way, this can space out the characters' lives and make them a bit more plausible (not everything that happens to them has to be earth-shaking). The initial draft of Awakening only seems to address the events that bear large impacts in the characters' lives. This realization has given me even more material to work with for the aforementioned story's revision.

Also, "P" and "O" are still too close together on the keyboard, I swear, since starting this story I've typed "Caotin" more than 87 times when I've meant to write Captain. .

(+50 ElTee points to anyone who catches the reference^^^)


	6. Learning Experience

**Chapter 6: Learning experience**

Two weeks later:

Tokus' funds were beginning to run low. He'd been as frugal as he could, but paying for lodging for himself, Nolta and Kala was quickly draining his reserves. Food wasn't a problem, at least, not for himself or Kala, they had plenty of MRE's from the outpost. Where Nolta was obtaining his sustenance the turian couldn't even begin to guess, but evidently the youth had the situation worked out.

The Captain stopped just outside of the young man's room, listening to see if he might be about to intrude on any personal conversations or such. Satisfied that he wasn't going to violate the quarian's privacy, Voran keyed the door chime.

"Who es et?"

"Tokus."

"Come on en."

The mercenary entered the room catching sight of the quarian sitting at the head of the bed, the myriad components of his Kryr II neatly organized in front of him.

Nolta caught the captain's gaze and explained. "There's not much else t' do. Tell you release me from yer charge, I can't resume m' pelgremage. I've spent th' last few days tryin' t' optimize the heat sink and linear accelerators."

Tokus nodded at the weapon's element zero coils, a series of specialized loops that catapulted the rifle's slugs to obscene velocities. "May I?"

Lae gingerly grasped the part and handed it to the turian. Voran rotated the component in his hand, sighting along the length and turning each ring to align it in a specific pattern. "This how you had it originally?"

Nolta nodded. "Yeh, never was all that good with maintenance, mostly just pulled th' tregger. Could pop the cam from a geth at fefty yards on th' range."

Voran's upper lip flexed outward as he returned the rings to the position he'd received them in. "This configuration will get you better accuracy, but your stopping power will suffer for it."

"Accuracy's what I shoot weth. Ef the bullet can't het th' target, et doesn't matter ef et can stop a krogan."

"Good man." The respect in Tokus' manner radiated through his armor. "So many soldiers these days want their targets to go down in one hit, but they don't care _how_ it's done. Do it quickly, do it cleanly, and you'll save everyone a lot of trouble." He carefully handed the component back to the pilgrim.

A moment of silence passed, Voran was about to speak again, but stopped himself as Nolta began his own sentence.

"I want t' thank y' Captain." He nodded as if to emphasize his statement. "You and Kala 've treated me like, well, normal I guess. Back on th' fleet, everyone treated m' special, like I was, unusual. I always knew I was deffrent, but, never knew how." He shook his head, reminiscing.

"No matter _what_ I ded, _someone_ else was better than me. I would always come up second or therd, but never ferst. The only thing I could do best was fight."

Tokus tilted his head and raised the cartilaginous ridges that served as his eyebrows signaling that he wanted the youth to expound.

Nolta huffed. "Hand t' hand, marksmenanshep, ef et envolved combat, none of 'em could touch me. I dedn't want that though. I just wanted t' be normal, for Keelah's sake! Good at engineering, at tech werk, somthen' like that." Tokus heard the bitterness in his tone.

"Et sucks, knowing that somehow, yer unique, but no-one'll tell y' why. They act like yer special. Y' know, en th' head?" He gestured towards his helmet with a sharp motion. "Y' look around and they all seem t' think they're smarter or somethen'. Et's bloody _wrong!_"

Tokus noted his young friend trembling with anger.

Nolta closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself. "I'm, sorry Captain, I jest, I guess I needed t' vent."

Tokus nodded "It's fine. If you keep it bottled up, it'll explode on the battlefield or somewhere stressful, and you don't want that." He waited for Nolta to digest the comment.

"People are afraid of what they don't understand," he finished.

Nolta heaved a deep sigh. "Aye, I guess that's true." A pause. "They sure as 'ell never understood me." He closed his eyes, recalling some dark memory. "My parents were given special permession t' hav a second child. Th' baby was stellborn, took her weth et. I never knew why, m' father wouldn't tell me." A sharp huff sounded from the quarian's helmet. "Now I know. Th' eezo exposure kelled 'er slowly."

Neither said a word for several minutes. Tokus shifted where he stood, pondering the quarian's revelation. Nolta finally spoke up again, evidently calmer than before. "I'm worried about 'er."

"Kala?" The turian's question came out flatly.

"Aye." Lae sounded almost despondent. "I thenk she likes me."

Tokus nodded. "So you've noticed."

"Et's nice, having a gerl like ya' an' all, but I hav t' get back to m' pelgremage soon." Nolt looked down. "'Sides, we're not even t' same species, hell, we're not even th' same amino base; a sengle kess could put me ento anaphylactic shock. I don't wan' t' hert her, but I hav t' break the news t' her sooner or later."

Tokus nodded. "That's what I came to talk to you about. My funds are running low..." He stopped for a moment, then cut to the chase. "She wants to go with you."

"I guess et can't be put off any longer." A hint of sadness crept into Nolta's voice when he responded. "I'll hav t' talk t' her tonight."

XxXxX

Tokus went against his better judgment that evening by deciding to eavesdrop on the couple. He watched as the two conversed, simple small talk comprising their initial discussion.

xXx

_He had started out strongly enough, but his resolve quickly faded when Kala had taken his hand. It was such a simple gesture, but so charged with meaning. She'd helped him walk before, supporting his shoulder and arm to ease his step, but she'd never taken his hand._ Nolta felt the warmth of her palm even through the specialized, insulated material of the environment suit's glove. His gaze lingered on each of her fingers, slender and delicate, but strong. _Two more than almost any other species._

He looked into her sapphire eyes, each smiling at him with a now familiar radiance. "Kala, th' Captain's probably told y' that I hav t' get back t' m' pelgremage soon."

Her eyes seemed to brighten further as she nodded. _If they kept up like that, she might be a quarian before long._ "He's also told me that you were hopin' t' tag along."

"I would like to, yes."

"Look," his voice failed him. "Look, et's… We've only known each other for a little while. I don't want t' rush thengs. My pelgremage es gonna take me to some frighteneng places, and, I can't be responsible for anyone other than m'self."

"I can take care of myself, besides, it's not like I'll be alone." Her free hand trailed across the edge of his helmet and Nolta couldn't help but try to picture the warm, soft touch of her fingertips on his jaw.

His resolution snapped. _Somewhere deep, he had a strong affection for this woman, where it had come from was anyone's guess, but it was there, and it refused to back down._ "Ef you're sure… jest… gev et some time."

Tokus leaned around the corner. Youri was cradling the chin of Nolta's helmet in one hand and holding his left hand in the other. Her face bore a warm smile as she gazed at his faceplate. "Fine. I'll think about it, but you already know what I'm going to say." The smile didn't fade from her face as she reached up and around the quarian's neck, pulling her lips to his mask.

The silver lights in the quarian's helmet disappeared for a moment, then returned as Kala broke away from the faceplate.

XxXxX

Krovak Torr watched his newest employee with a hint of concern in his visage. Three weeks had passed since she'd killed the batarian rider gang, but her demeanor hadn't changed since the event. She was still focused on her work, but it seemed more purposeful, like she was trying to forget what had happened. Torr caught the sound of her muttering under her breath and moved closer.

"...ittle bosh'_tet!_" Her right arm snapped down, still clutching a short, flat tool meant to push specialized components into difficult-to-reach spaces. The young woman re-inserted the tool and tried again, but the result proved the same.

"Need any help there?" The massive beast's voice rumbled through her audio filters.

Rikka offered a sigh and stood up handing the instrument to him. Torr purposefully eased down to the cramped compartment she'd been working on. "Where is it?"

She knelt over his colossal frame and pointed to the wayward metal plug that had stubbornly refused to yield to her efforts. The krogan gave an understanding grunt and wrestled his arm into the narrow casing. Moments later, a soft click was heard and Torr lowered his arm from the speeder before handing the tool back to the tech.

"So, what did I just modify?" he chuckled.

"Engine output ran through the left side," she explained, resuming her station beneath the vehicle. "Convoluted mess of circuitry, bypassed it for better efficiency."

_That_ _was another thing that had changed,_ he thought. _She'd always been most comfortable while working; whenever she was elbows deep in some program or engine block, you could get all kinds of conversation out of her. Whenever she wasn't working, she was quiet, reserved, and uncertain. Now, even while she worked, her tone had become more clipped, to the point._

"What's eatin' ya'?"

"Nothing."

_Too easy._ "It's a heckuva lot more than that." He waited for a response. Nothing. "Look, you made your first kill. To a krogan, that's a rite of passage. You should feel proud; a friend was threatened, you did what you could in his defense." He grinned, though she couldn't see it from where she was working. "Good bit 'o 'could' it was too."

Rikka heaved a sigh and pushed out from under the speeder. "I've got a lot of work to do."

Torr's smile vanished. "Look, I understand that you need to work this out, but keeping it to yourself is unhealthy. I'm a krogan, I approve of what you did, but that don't mean I can't help."

The quarian closed her eyes, processing his offer. "Okay, here it is. They give us guns, weapons, whatever, when we go on pilgrimage, you know, for self defense." She rolled out from under the machinery and glanced at Torr, who gave a slight nod. Nall pushed back under the speeder and resumed her task.

"They give us moderate training, marksmanship, hand to hand, tech attacks, that kind of thing, but it's all geared towards staying alive. Not once are we told 'if you see these kill them'. I _attacked_ those batarians."

The krogan's voice was firm. "_No,_ you defended yourself, acted on instinct; exactly what you should've done. This is Omega, the law of the jungle was born _here,_ kill or be killed. They don't send you out on pilgrimage to end up on Omega. You're adapting, just like you're supposed to."

Author's notes:

**Kala has been a really fun character to write, young, impetuous, and perky. Come chapter 7 or 8, I know she'll be changing at least slightly, but I'm not sure how. I know how Nolta will be changing, but I'm not entirely sure how to develop it in the next few chapters either. I guess what I'm trying to say here is I really wish Writer's Block didn't affect outlines. (I still can't get one up.)**


	7. Departure

**Chapter 7: Departure**

Nolta put the last item in the heavy-duty rucksack Tokus had given him. The canvas-bag had a plethora of pouches, loops and secret compartments that could hold enough equipment to outfit a small army. Most of the things that filled the bag were re-useable nutrient paste tubes, but a few metal bricks to serve as clips as well as a few medigel tubes and suit-patches filled out the itinerary.

_The bare essentials,_ he thought to himself. The pilgrim regarded the small credit chit that he'd been given by the captain. _Tokus was nothing if not generous._

"You ready?" Kala's query caught him off-guard and Nolta found his hand on the butt of his sidearm before realizing the young woman was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. A wry smile shone across her mouth.

"Not ef y' keep doing that." He lifted himself from behind the table and swung the rucksack over his shoulder. "What're you brengen'?"

Kala pulled a similar bag from her shoulders and held it open, exposing a pair of combat knives, a weeks' worth of MRE's, and a few personal effects. "Just the basics."

She flashed a blindingly white smile and took his arm. "C'mon, let's go."

Nolta once again cursed himself for being unable to refuse to take her along. _It was unfair to both of them, but try as he might, he just couldn't summon the willpower to tell her no._ He tried again to summon the resolve, but his strength failed at the sight of her brilliant smile. _One. More. Time._ "Kala, y' realize thes'll never werk. We're not the same species, not even the same amino base. I can't even kess you wethout resken' m' life."

The light in her eyes dimmed slightly for a moment before returning with a renewed vigor. "It'll work. Nothing worth having is ever easy."

The pilgrim stopped for a minute. _He'd heard those words before._ "What?"

"We can make it work."

"Ne, after that."

"Nothing worth having is ever easy?"

"Aye. Someone said that t' me back on th' fleet, b'fore I left. Can't remember who et was." _Somehow, he didn't feel so bad about bringing her along now._

XxXxX

The speeder that the batarian rider gang had brought in for repairs sat in the back of the chop-shop, serving mostly as a scrap piece. Whenever a part in another vehicle needed to be replacement, Rikka would bolt over to the speeder and check it for the necessary component. A vehicle of that size could only house so many parts, however, and the quarian's brief sojourns to the vehicle became less frequent as she would recall having taken a given piece from the machine earlier.

It was on one of these brief 'expeditions' that she found the speeder's memory core. It wasn't the piece she needed, but piqued her interest enough to draw her back to it during her break. After removing the core, Rikka sat down in her favorite corner of the shop and set to work deciphering the memory stored aboard the unit. Most of the data pertained to 'hideouts' and gang territories, things that Rikka took note of as places to avoid. _A funny thought, considering that this was Omega._

There were a series of files, however, that caught her eye. Several maps detailed the layout of the station, but the majority of these were in some way linked with the 'Afterlife' bar from which Omega's 'queen' ran her operations. _Aria T'Loak, one of the few people on the station that Krovak Torr mentioned by name. She was also one of the few people he bothered to hate._

She looked at the data for a few more minutes before cutting her break short to return to work. The newest machine in the garage was a state-of-the-art vehicle that she'd gone to the scrap speeder to acquire a new repulsor coil for. Rikka took the part and swapped it out before giving the system a test run. A gentle blue light bathed the ground beneath the craft and it lifted a solid meter above the garage floor. The tech powered the system down and the speeder softly floated back to the metal bulkhead.

The shop was quiet as she proceeded to run diagnostics and tests on the other systems to ensure that everything was in working order. No sooner had she finished than the thought of the speeder data reemerged in her mind. A pensive frown pulled at the corners of her mouth. _Why would a simple batarian rider gang be involved in anything dealing with Aria? They had shown themselves arrogant and rash, but even a group of young batarian males would have better sense than to challenge the ruthless asari._

The quarian let her eyes scan the shop, searching to see if there were any other tasks that required her attention. Seeing none, she ambled over to the work schedule and maintenance logs to see if she could find something she'd overlooked. _Nothing._ _Had Torr been there, she would have asked him for an assignment. As it was, he was out receiving a shipment from one of his suppliers or some such. Solomon had gone with him, leaving Rikka alone with nothing to do._

She returned to the memory core and began flipping through the documents again.

XxXxX

Tokus bid the young couple farewell at the Bachjret ward's primary docking complex. The turian had secured another transport run from his friend Serk, with instructions for the pilot to ferry the two to their chosen destination. Nolta had originally intended to stay on the Citadel for a few weeks to look for work. A brief discussion with Tokus had proven sufficient to dissuade him.

"_The Citadel's expensive enough when you know the cheap places to stay. Any money you make working will get sucked up by lodging and food. You won't be able to set aside a single credit for your journey."_

Nolta stepped into Serk's freighter, a well-kept, humble vehicle with few notable additions other than a miniaturized accelerator cannon for defense against light fighters. The weapon had only been used once, and then only against a wayward asteroid. The craft bore only the necessary registration markings and its name, leaving the exterior a bleak, gray-white shell.

Nolta noted that, despite it mediocre appearance, the vessel looked better than most found in the fleet. By virtue of their constant repairs, additions and modifications, most of the ships in the flotilla looked more like flying heaps of scrap metal than anything else. _The Mekanag_, at least, bore a smooth hull, comprised of only a few separate plates.

The quarian took one last look at the Citadel before stepping inside the freighter's familiar interior and sitting down across from Kala.

Serk stood in the middle of the room between the two. Nolta quickly realized that the turian's black tattoos almost exactly matched those that adorned Tokus' face. "Welcome to the Mekanag. She's not the most impressive ship to look at, but she does well enough for a private trader like myself. Tokus asked me to give you two the best seat in the house. Not that I kept those from you guys last time." He stifled a small laugh.

"He really picked a good time of year to ask me to do this, don't get a whole lot of commissions in my neck of the woods right now. I usually just prowl around the galaxy for the best jobs for a while until the tourist season heats back up. So, have you chosen a destination?"

Nolta gave a sharp nod. _There were tons of possible places. They could return to Korlus and try to find a drive core, search for scrap out in one of the many orbital ship graveyards, or they could go to his fallback plan. Eezo was always a precious commodity in the fleet, and Nolta realized its significance even more acutely in light of his gift._ "Caleston. We'll start weth Caleston."

Both Kala and Serk's eyes widened.

"Caleston? Why there? There's nothing there but independent eezo miners trying to muscle in on E.A.E.'s stuff."

Nolta gave a confident nod. "Exactly."

Serk shrugged and made his way up to the cockpit. Kala flashed a questioning look at her companion. "What do you mean, 'exactly'?"

"I've been doin' lots o' research about the planets en that area o' space, Caleston's got the most eezo of all of 'm. Plenty o' endependant miners too, perfect for m' to get en, earn some o' th' stuff fer the fleet and fenesh m' pelgremage."

Kala bit her lip. _She hadn't really considered exactly what they'd be doing on the journey, or for that matter, its conclusion. Looking back now, her decision to accompany him seemed foolish. In the end, though, her words in their earlier conversation rang through her head. "Nothing worth having is ever easy."_

"Yer worried eh?"

She nodded, then offered a faint smile and took Nolta's hands in her own.

"Me too," his thick accent rolled from behind the faceplate. "Me too."

XxXxX

Aria was pleasant enough, at least, as pleasant as a dictator in perpetuity could be. The asari had proven especially accommodating when she learned where the data she'd been trying to track for three months had disappeared to.

"You found it where exactly?" T'Loak's smooth voice flowed from her tongue as though the quarian sitting uncomfortably next to her were an old friend.

"A, uh, batarian rider gang. They had it in their speeder." Rikka was still obviously nervous.

"And you stole it from them?" Aria grinned.

_How did one answer that question safely?_ "Well…"

"It's okay, hon, this is Omega, nothing is sacred here." The asari's words were meant to sooth, but Rikka found herself bristling. "So, how does…" Aria pursed her lips in thought. "...15,000 sound?"

The quarian's breath nearly caught in her throat. "Fif-… …fifteen thousand!" She squeaked.

"That data's worth quite a bit in the right places. I'd rather my security not have to seal off half of the bar." A warm smile graced the Matron's lips.

"I, uh, yes. Fifteen sounds fair." The pilgrim attempted to maintain a degree of composure. _Fifteen thousand credits would be a significant pilgrimage gift on its own._

xXx

Rikka'Nall nar Tugara made her way back to Torr's machine shop in a daze, the credit chit tucked neatly away in a secret pouch in her suit. _Torr had given her permission to keep or sell any of the rider gang's speeder parts as she'd seen fit, she'd decided to use the parts to supplement the krogan's business. The money was rightly hers, but she still felt an obligation to him somehow._

After reaching the machine shop, Rikka drew the chit and added its sum to her personal account. After a few more minutes of thought, she deducted five thousand from the chit and added it to the chop shop's register. _Torr had been good to her, she'd cushion her departure in a few days (wherever she'd be going) with a 'small' gift to the krogan._

Author's Note:

**Don't expect any updates for the story for a few weeks minimum. Awakening's revision is likely to consume all of my writing energies until I deem it complete.**

**Choosing a location for Nolta to go to was exceedingly difficult. I scoured the codex for a planet with suitable 'accommodations' that the quarian would be able to afford. In the end, the one that best suited his persona (in terms of being singularly driven) was indeed Caleston: a largely uninhabited planet with several small, private eezo mining establishments, providing him with an opportunity to procure exactly the kind of gift the fleet could use. I has sad-face, though. The next chapter or two are going to deal with some pretty heavy/serious issues, near slave-labor and such.**


	8. Non Solum

**Chapter 8: Non Solum**

* * *

Tokus Voran was not given to nightmares. _Usually_. Tonight, for whatever reason, the former mercenary dreamt of Sketa, his former master.

_The towering form of a krogan loomed above him. He was barely past his adolescent phase. Simply a young, scared boy who'd been abducted from his parents at the ripe age of thirteen as they were brutally murdered. His master's gravelly voice shook the room's supports as she kicked his small, rickety bunk._

"_UP! You think I eat air? Up!"_

_The krogan accompanied her words with another pair of sharp kicks. Tokus shot out of the bed, not wanting to suffer another impact from the beast's massive foot._ _He'd been forced to take on Betney's tasks in addition to his own since the batarian had been killed earlier that week. That primarily meant cooking._

_Tokus quick-walked to the kitchen, a large, domed room coated in the same dull red mud that had been slathered over the rest of the Sketa's domicile. He quickly assembled the ingredients for the krogan's favorite breakfast and set to work preparing them._

_Voran remembered the lashings his master had administered to Betney earlier, the screams from the 'punishment room', where he himself had received much similar abuse. These screams were different than those from the usual whippings, though. Sketa flew into a mad fit of rage when Betney had tripped, flinging scalding oil all over her face and crest. She'd grabbed the young man's wrist, crushing it with an iron grasp as she dragged him to the dungeon-like chamber._

_Tokus remembered the piercing wails that started moments later, and their eventual, ominous, descent into silence. Sketa had emerged covered in the slave's blood and nothing had been seen of the young batarian since._

_He recalled the first blow when Sketa decided that she'd waited long enough for her meal. The food was almost prepared, but who could reason with an angry krogan? Tokus felt the paring knife gripped tightly in his hand, felt the ache in his side from where she'd struck him._

_He could perfectly recall the swing as he'd lashed out in a desperate bid to protect himself, the razor-sharp blade slipping easily into Sketa's eye._

The turian sat up in his bed, his breathing heavy but controlled. _Why were the memories returning unbidden? He'd long since recovered from his ordeal with the slaver, using the event as impetus to strive for excellence on the battlefield and every other place in his life. It was why he'd helped the quarian, why he'd taken Kala under his wing. The fewer mothers that had to mourn the loss of their sons and daughters, the better. He had survived his own private hell, and knew what it was to live in constant fear and torment. The more he could help others avoid that fate, the better he had done for Betney, for his parents, for himself._

* * *

Rikka woke up that morning feeling particularly strange. _She'd already told Torr that she'd be leaving today, and that it was likely that she'd be going to the Citadel, but the specifics of her journey, specifically her choice of rides, had been decided with much uncertainty._

_Ultimately, she'd settled upon the equivalent of a galactic taxi service, a small operation run by a local volus who'd taken up the profession despite his species' disaffinity for manual tasks._

Torr was waiting for her when she came to turn in the shop omni-tool he'd allowed her to use while working. Rikka set the device on the counter in front of the krogan and keyed her own omni-tool, unlocking the credits she'd stored for him earlier.

Rikka offered a nod as the machine shop's register started to beep, then turned to leave after Torr turned to look at it. She hadn't gone twenty feet before the thunderous voice of her former employer called after her.

"Just a minute. You think you can blow that kinda money?"

Rikka stopped. _In just a few short weeks, she'd learned more about the world outside the flotilla than her entire life spent aboard its ships, and most of it was thanks to Torr._ She rotated to face the towering reptilian as he approached her, a credit chit in his hand.

"You worked for me, it ain't my payday." The hulking alien offered a slight grin. "Consider this your bonus, ya did good."

Rikka looked up at him then down at the chit. _Her original gift was there, along with another 1,200. 6,200 in total._ She shook her head, resignedly.

"Ain't neither of us going anywhere until you take this." Torr stated.

With a final look at the former warrior's weathered face, Rikka accepted the chit and nodded. "Thank you, Sir, for everything."

* * *

The Mekanag pulled into orbit over Caleston, a volcanic world covered in independent mining operations and a large network of Eldfell-Ashland Energy facilities. Serk guided the freighter into comm range and hailed Nolta's first choice of stations, a medium sized operation listed on the ship's nav computer as "Mining Station Endeavor".

"This is civilian freighter Mekanag to Mining Station Endeavor, requesting permission to land."

Even with the enhanced audio filters in his helmet, Nolta couldn't distinguish the words coming over Serk's headset. The pilot listened for a minute and replied. "I need a refuel, _direct_ eezo, and I've got two persons interested in workin' for ya."

There was another string of vocables that Nolta was unable to make out, then Serk answered.

"Copy that, heading five-oh-one confirmed."

* * *

Faros Jekne had been spending an awfully long time flying silent, and was finally blessed with the sonorous sounds of intercepted radio traffic. _"…vilian freighter Mekanag to M…ng Station En…vor req… …ission to lan…"_ The message was choppy, but he'd heard all he needed to hear. Just to be safe, the krogan listened in on the rest of the interchange as he made his approach.

The operative put his stealth craft into a shallow dive and mirrored the civilian freighter's descent. Minutes later, Jekne had landed fifty meters from the facility, masking his ship's remaining heat signatures in a thermal vent. Jekne hopped out of the small craft and broke into a sprint. Caleston was uncomfortably hot, even for a krogan, and he did not want to remain outside any longer than absolutely necessary.

It took him a good eight seconds to clear the distance between his incursion vessel and the mining facility, much of which was perched uncomfortably above a boiling river of lava three hundred feet below. The krogan sniffed, crinkling his nose at the unpleasant stench of element zero that wafted from the molten river. He snorted to rid himself of the smell and turned to the task of gaining access to interior of the mining station.

* * *

Solomon Kincaid stepped into the mining station's lobby to see his two potential new workers. He was a thin man with light brown hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. All business. Even a seasoned investor like Mr. Kincaid wasn't prepared for the two hopefuls that stood before him when he entered the room.

One was a six-foot-nine quarian male dressed in an aqua-marine environment suit, the other was a young woman a full foot and change shorter and wearing what appeared to be Blue Suns armor. Security officer Barric Ro'noa stood to the left of the two, Solomon's right, his four eyes scanning his boss's face for signs of trouble.

The chief miner stopped short of the couple and shook his head. "_Absolutely_ not. A quarian and a young lady… No, just… Do you have any idea what my men would do to you?" He tilted his head forward at Nolta. "Everyone thinks of your kind as thieves, you wouldn't last five minutes here."

He turned to Kala. "And you…" He shook his head. "My men ain't seen a woman in three months…"

Barric stepped in. "Any of them lay a finger on her…" he made a cutting motion across his neck.

Kincaid's eyes widened slightly. "I never pinned you for the kind to save a damsel in distress."

"We look out for our own." The batarian lifted a hand to his collar and pulled it down, revealing a faded blue tattoo on his collar bone. He grinned, the needle-like fangs common to his race glistening in the rusty light of the lobby. "One of the perks of the job."

The chief miner pursed his lips to one side. "Still no." He shook his head. "I can't afford that kind of liability."

Nolta shrugged. "I dedn't figure we'd get et on our ferst try. C'mon Kala, let's head back t' th' Mekanag."

Kincaid shrugged and turned around, heading back to his office. Something made him pause. "Good luck you two."

* * *

Solomon emerged from his office not five minutes later, his face pale and his pulse thumping several beats a second. _How a krogan had gotten into the base undetected was a mystery; Barric was one of the most competent men he'd ever run across in his fifty-odd years, but that was unimportant. The large reptilian's orders were explicitly clear._

The chief miner bolted into the lobby where Barric stood, angrily struggling with his omni tool. "Damn security cams won't-" He caught sight of the boss and snapped to attention.

Solomon wasted no time. "Have they left yet?"

The batarian was slightly perplexed, but responded immediately. "No, docking clamps have them locked down, I can't understand why-"

"It doesn't matter." He brushed past with a dismissive wave of his hand. _**He**_ _knew why, and the other's orders left no room for interpretation. "__**If you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone…**__"_

Kincaid stepped out into the landing complex and waved to the pilot of the freighter as he approached. A few minutes later, Serk stood in front of him, arms crossed.

"Well, why can't I take off?" The turian's voice carried an edge that did nothing to ease Solomon's nerves. The human looked back over his shoulder as if to check the door seal.

"Tell- Tell your friends I'm willing to let them work for two weeks to see if they can earn their keep."

Serk's eyebrow lifted. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

The miner stole a quick glance over his shoulder. _He couldn't say anything to tip them off to the other's involvement. "__**I can kill people in very clever ways.**__"_ "I remembered what it was like trying to get a job at their age."

The turian unlaced his arms, shrugged, and returned to the Mekanag.

* * *

Jekne watched as the two exited the civilian craft. His broad mouth curled up into a smile at the corners. _At least the human was smart enough to obey orders._

The krogan tapped his omni-tool and the docking clamps that had held the freighter disengaged. He tapped the device again and spoke into the mouthpiece, his gravelly voice rumbling into the high-end mic installed in the device. "You've got your two weeks."

* * *

Author's note:

**I'm in a conundrum as to the next segment of the story, it's gonna be rough however I write it, but Nolta and Kala are going to go through an emotional grindstone.**


	9. Maintenance

**Chapter 9: Maintenance**

* * *

Nolta checked the release lever and pumped the charging handle once, freeing a highly pressurized plug through the piping. A soft whump sounded as the plug shot through the tube, cleaning off deposits and debris as it came to a stop at the other end. The process was known as 'pigging', named for the rotund cleaning devices used to clean out the pipes during routine maintenance.

Lae grasped the handle of the cleaning tool and pulled it free of the tubing, bringing a sizeable mound of charred rock and dirt along with it. He reached over, took a cleaning cloth, and wiped the inner surface where the plug had come to a stop, revealing a brilliant chrome sheen. A brief check of the metal deeper inside the pipe confirmed that the 'pig' had done its job well, no traces of contaminants remained to be seen. It had taken three passes, but that was fairly standard. Sometimes the pig had to be sent through a pipe upwards of ten times in order to remove all of the build up.

The quarian aligned the open end of the metal with the receiving port in the wall and slid it home. After checking the seal to make sure it was airtight, he rose to his feet, gathered up the plug and pressure system, cleaned them, and stowed them in their proper resting places. Not all of the workers here had been scrupulous about following procedure, but those that didn't had lost their positions quite quickly, and Lae had no intentions of mimicking their mistakes.

Nolta had been assigned to general maintenance and was quickly picking up on the various nuances that helped make the various tasks more efficient. Frequent cleaning of the equipment was among these. When the pig got dirty, it often took two to three extra passes to clear a section of pipe, something that could be avoided if it was cleaned every five uses. Standard procedure only required that it be done half that often, but Nolta had taken to making sure that everything he did surpassed expectations, often to the point of cleaning the rig after a mere three passes.

Pigging wasn't the only thing that filled his itinerary, though. Nolta had a variety of electrical system to monitor, optimize, and repair as well as several mechanical apparatus as well. Kincaid had initially been somewhat suspicious of the quarian's work ethic, wondering if it was a way of hiding some other activities, but careful surveillance by Barric and one of the other security officers had revealed that the young man's drive for excellence was simply that, a desire to be the best in the facility.

Kala marveled at her friend's stamina. _He was consistently working an hour and a half more than her every day, and didn't seem to suffer physically or mentally. In fact, it seemed almost like it was improving his attitude overall._

Nine days had passed since they'd begun working at the mine and they were already becoming fast friends with some of the other miners there. Matak, a dull brown krogan with a limp, was the largest of the crew, a digger who out-paced all of his peers when it came to extracting eezo ore by a full 20 kilos a day. The large beast had taken a particular liking to Kala, her outgoing personality and upbeat spirit quickly won him over.

Heris was a middle aged batarian with only one eye left. While not particularly friendly, the alien no longer passed either Nolta or Kala with a look of disdain. The quarian decided he'd take what he could get when it came to the old miner. Roddy and Mike were brothers, serious men who, like Kincaid, appreciated hard workers and spoke in practical terms. If he hadn't known any better, Nolta would have guessed all three humans to be brothers.

For some inexplicable reason though, Kala seemed nervous around Roddy. Every time Nolta asked about it, Kala would just shrug off the question, claiming that the man 'just looked strange'. Being a quarian, Lae had become quite skilled at reading body language, and knew that there was more to the young woman's apprehension than she was letting on.

That evening, as the two settled in for the night, Nolta decided that his friend had dodged the question enough.

The quarian leaned up on one elbow on his mattress, looking at Kala on the other side of the narrow room, not ten feet away. "Y' know, y' stell seem uneasy 'bout Roddy. Y' ready t' tell me exactly what's goin' on ther?"

Kala cast a furtive glance at the doorway, wondering if her friend had spotted the man, thus sparking his query. "I already told you, he's weird looking."

"En I recall sayin' I don't buy et. Y' tense up whenever he comes 'round, at denner, y' set on the other side o' th' mess, I've even herd y' ask Kincaid t' station y' en th' steam-room t' get away from 'im."

The young woman looked away.

"Look, I can't help y' do anythen' about et ef y' don't tell me what the issue es."

She offered a huff and glared at him for a moment. "It's not something you need to worry about."

He felt his spine tingle; something about the way she replied told him that the issue was more deep-seated than a simple matter of uneasiness.

"There are thengs I've had t' talk 'bout thengs that dedn't make me feel very comfortable te, Kala. In th' end et ended up helpen' m' deal weth 'em."

"I'll tell you when I'm ready to tell you."

"Ded he threaten you?" She heard the thinly veiled anger in his voice and immediately regretted her own tone. _He wasn't trying to be nosy, he was genuinely concerned for her._

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… come across as hostile, Nolta. He… he reminds me of someone, someone I'd rather forget."

Nolta's answer was softer as well. "I'm sorry te, I dedn't mean t' pry, I… I was worried fer ya."

"No, he- he hasn't threatened me."

Nolta let the matter go. _When she was ready, she'd tell him, not before._

* * *

Rikka was laying in her bunk, or rather, her cot, aboard the VCV Gu Onar when the ship jumped to the Scylla nebula. Her volus pilot, Nugaa Ruo, was a cautious man, cautious enough to avoid any systems that didn't have at least three patrols running at all times, Sahrabarik being the sole exception. For this reason, Nall found it strange that the volus had accepted the turian aboard.

The man had cyan facial tattoos and a deep scar in on of his side mandibles. Something about him felt… off. Though he tried to act casual, Rikka couldn't help but notice the Devlon Industries' Gorgon IV assault rifle and Firestorm VII Shotgun that he carried. His sidearm hadn't drawn her attention initially, but given the presence of his other two armaments, she couldn't help but notice that it too was a very expensive and high-quality piece of weaponry.

The turian's armor was a deep blue, much the same color as the heat sink of his rifle. All in all, a very intimidating figure. Perhaps that was why Ruo had accepted the man's payment.

"You ever been to the Citadel?"

The turian's query caught her totally by surprise. "I- uh, why?"

He shrugged. "Just curious. I haven't seen a quarian in almost three years."

"No- I, uh, no, I've never been."

"I think you'll like it, provided you keep your eyes peeled. C-sec keeps a tight handle on the place for the most part, some areas of the wards you'll want to steer clear of."

Rikka searched the ground, looking for some excuse not to stare at him. _He'd said absolutely nothing for the entirety of the trip and his sudden openness was somewhat unnerving._

"Lot of humans there though. Dumb pricks won't shut up about the Council holding them back."

The quarian pretended to fumble with a few settings on her omni-tool, to her relief, the turian said nothing more, just offered a slight shrug and lay back down.

* * *

The compressor hissed and spat a stream of scalding hot water vapor at the quarian. Nolta swore and pushed his foot down against the pressure kill switch, venting the excess gas through a series of valves below the main unit. The tank emptied, and he again tried to detach the hose. This time, he was not assaulted by a cloud of hot steam.

Lae opened the primary pressure valve and bent the hose away from the circuit box. Generally, he disliked working on the outside of the complex, but at this early hour, the slightly less oppressive temperatures bore a welcoming aura. The quarian opened the casing and proceeded to check the connections at the base of each wire.

_One A, good. One B, good. Two A, good. Two B-_ he stopped, removed the charge testing prongs, reapplied them, and checked the power a second time. _The second wire pair was drawing twice the power of its neighbors._

The quarian's eyes narrowed and he detached the wire before connecting a small loop of metal wire to the receiving port. A few quick taps on his omni-tool connected the device to the spare wire, tracing the power signature. _Odd, the power was being routed through a secondary breaker, then fed back to the board at which he was working._

Nolta made a mental note to check the other circuit breaker, then returned to work. A few minutes later, he had checked the rest of the connections and restored the pressure hose to its proper state. A quick diagnostic confirmed that the equipment was back in shape, though he was unable to detect the increased power draw that had caught his attention in the readout.

His omni-tool blinked three times. _Lunch hour._ Nolta had a fleeting idea, thought about it, and decided to follow through. _Kincaid might know what the extra power was being routed for, but there was no harm in checking first, besides, there was always the possibility of finding something that needed repair._

The quarian made his way around back and followed the catwalk out to the secondary breaker that his omni-tool had traced as the power draw's source. As soon as he opened the casing, Nolta knew someone had been tampering with the system. Four sets of wires had been reattached incorrectly, and a small device had been spliced into the fifth and sixth cables. The remaining four lines remained untouched, at least visually.

Nolta scanned the small device and left the circuit box as he'd found it. _If Kincaid had had the breaker set up that way on purpose, he'd allow it to stay that way, but if the boss had no knowledge of it, he would fix the box._

* * *

Thane Krios watched as the VCV Gu Onar drifted towards the gas giant Corondon. _The turian had booked passage on the ship from Omega, not a surprising location given the man's background. His old friend working near Harrot's had caught sight of him and called to say where the man would be headed._

The assassin's main concern was tracking down Veraidian Nurem, and all the data he'd gathered had pointed to this particular turian having connections with said Spectre.

* * *

Author's Note:

***Jumps with childlike glee* The next chapter is going to hit TURBO in terms of action. Also, the story is going to hit its first real twist in the next few chapters. Well, maybe it's not accurate to call it a twist, since I've been hinting at it more as the story has progressed…**


	10. Retribution

**Chapter 10: Retribution**

* * *

Kala left the mess hall slightly less unsettled by Roddy. The man had offered her his seat as she'd come in, explaining that he was a minute over his break anyways. His usual scowl was absent as well, communicating that he was in a slightly better than usual mood. Sure, he was still a dead ringer for Tarret, but that was all. The young woman shrugged as she gathered up her equipment and made her way to the processing floor.

_She could tell Nolta soon perhaps, but not quite yet. It just felt… off. Tarret had been locked up for a while now, but every time she saw Roddy it called back memories of the photo shoot…_ Kala gave her head a sharp shake to clear her thoughts, but the topic wouldn't go away. _Everyone she'd met had said she'd stayed surprisingly well adjusted after what he'd tried to do to her. Granted, he hadn't succeeded, but still…_

* * *

Thane eased his ship up alongside the Gu Onar and engaged the magnetic clamps. A sharp jerk accompanied the low, hollow thud as the two ships became locked together. The drell pulled his facemask on and secured the straps to make it airtight. Thane keyed his suit to check his contained air system, waited for the green, 'all clear' light. With a simple push of a button, the cabin slowly pumped its atmosphere into a set of holding tanks near the back of the ship. After the pressure in the chamber reached the right level, the drell killed the pump, stabilizing the low atmosphere setting of the cabin.

At this low pressure, any explosive decompression caused by an inadequate seal would be minor, while the pressure differential between ships wouldn't prove injurious to him if the seal held. A failsafe program monitored the interior pressure as well, ready to pressurize the cabin or dump all of its air at the fastest 'safe rate'.

Once he was certain that the chamber was secure, he engaged the pressure hatch. The door parted with a barely detectable hiss, and the drell found himself staring at the dull gray of the Gu Onar's hull. A quick check confirmed that the docking seals were good, and he proceeded to begin hacking into the other ship's security systems.

* * *

Nugaa Ruo had been mildly unsettled by the turian at first sight and became downright terrified upon learning that the man was a Spectre. In truth, that was the only reason he'd agreed to take the turian aboard. Spectres reported to the Citadel Council, meaning law enforcement held no sway over them. The volus had no wish to invoke the turian's ire, especially considering the selection of armaments at the man's disposal.

When the ship's power cut out, the volus immediately suspected that his well armed guest was to blame. Acting on instinct, the diminutive captain rolled out of his chair and quickly waddled over to the smuggling compartment to hide.

* * *

The moment the lights started flickering, Nurem knew exactly what was going on. Rikka sat up in her cot just as the room went black. Soft orange light filtered into the turian's vision a moment later as the young woman's omni-tool blinked to life. Quiet beeps sounded from the device as she checked the vessel's systems.

"Firewalls are down, power control's been rerouted, life support still functional…"

Veraidian was barely paying attention to her mumbling. He'd directed his faculties to detecting the slightest clue as to his hunter's location; footsteps, electronic humming, anything that could clue him in as to where his pursuer would strike from.

The soft hum of the quarian's omni-tool was just loud enough to mask light footsteps. Nurem rested a hand on her forearm, prompting her to deactivate the device, while his other hand reached for the Kessler III pistol on his belt. In the still air of the cabin, the weapon's de-compacting sequence seemed deafeningly loud. Rikka caught a glint in the turian's eyes as his hand left her arm.

She shuddered involuntarily. _It was the same look she had seen in the batarians' eyes on Omega._ A moment later, the young woman registered that the turian had left the room.

* * *

Thane advanced through the ship, his footsteps feather light on the cold metal deck. The assassin cradled a Gungnir heavy pistol in one hand, while the other remained slightly in front of him, ready to draw the knife on his right sleeve at a moment's notice. Krios' hawk-like eyes scanned the corners of the ship, diligently searching for any signs of his quarry. Tiny, almost imperceptible clicks sounded behind him.

Krios' trained ear recognized the sound as footfalls, _turian male, almost certainly his target._

As if on cue, a two-fingered fist sailed for Thane's back, only to be caught mid-flight in the drell's iron grasp. The assassin turned the rest of the way to face his target, his own swing deflected with as little effort as the one he'd stopped moments earlier. Three flashes of ruby appeared roughly a foot and a half below the turian's eyes. The sound from each pistol shot rang through the corridor, followed by two more as Thane crescent kicked the weapon away from his opponent.

Nurem found himself slammed into the wall and felt his fringe flex painfully as his head made contact with the bulkhead. Stars danced in front of his eyes, spinning on a black backdrop. The Spectre felt the muzzle of Thane's pistol press against his neck even as he struggled past the pain swimming through his head.

A rumbling voice joined the ringing in the turian's ears "You can walk out of this alive. All I want is your boss's hiding place."

Nurem scoffed, sending a fresh wave of brilliant splotches through his vision. "Men like us have no time for games, Krios. You know I report directly to the Council."

"Where is Nurem?" Thane pressed the pistol harder against his hostage's throat. "I will not ask again."

The turian's mind swam, but one thing was clear, _Thane was about to pull the trigger._

_In this exact situation, there really weren't that many ways to free himself without taking a bullet to the throat, but given the odds that he was about to received one anyways…_

Thane was expecting the exact move that his opponent chose to break away, but the execution was so flawless that even he barely had time to react. The turian swung his left arm up, pinning Krios' to the bulkhead. The pistol discharged, but the barrel was just outside Nurem's kinetic barriers, affording him enough protection from the round to save his life.

The turian's leg lashed out, slamming into the drell's midsection even as one of the assassin's legs came up to block the blow. Nurem whirled, bringing his elbow around to impact the drell's temple, but the target wasn't there. The turian smelled ozone and heard the warbling sound of Thane's biotic warp as it carved a web of curling gashes into the Spectre's armor. The flash given off by the biotic field's detonation proved sufficient for Veraidian to get his bearings even as his subconscious directed his arm to block a right thrust from his opponent.

Nurem rolled back just in time to evade Thane's follow up strike. The Spectre pushed off the wall to his side even before gaining his footing and propelled himself into one of the adjoining corridors, out of sight and out of reach. Krios cursed under his breath and stopped all motion. _Following his prey around that corner would be foolish at best. He needed to listen for the sound of the other's breathing, footsteps, anything that could clue him in._

* * *

Nolta had waited until his break to go see Kincaid. The boss sat in his office with the door open, as was his custom, munching on a pre-packed sandwich filled with some strong smelling meat. The old businessman looked up to see the quarian standing in the doorway, his hands held behind his back in a somewhat uncertain manner. Solomon cocked an eyebrow and motioned the young man in.

"Nolta, need something?"

"Aye." The pilgrim hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. "I uh, found some, irregularities en some of th' electronics outside."

Kincaid's eyebrows raised. "What kind of irregularities?"

"Some kind o' scanner… I uh… Et's probably best ef you come and see fer yerself…"

Solomon pursed his lips, nodded, and pushed back his chair. "All right, let's go see what this is all about."

* * *

Rikka dimmed her omni-tool's display so that it registered as little more than a flicker, even in the dim light. The young woman had her pistol drawn, its internal ammunition feed set to generate cryo rounds, perfect for limiting the effectiveness of enemy shielding. _She'd never used the setting outside of a firing range, but if there was a time or place to have it ready, it was now._

The quarian inched forward, careful to pay attention to anything and everything that could help her determine what was going on. Tiny emergency lights pulsed intermittently along the corners of the walls and ceiling, giving her a faint but consistent source of illumination in addition to the glow of her omni-tool. Rikka followed the pulsing LEDs to the cockpit, only to find that it too was empty.

The young woman frowned and pulsed the light on her omni-tool once, immediately spotting what she was looking for. Rikka sat in the captain's chair and set to work with her omni-tool, powering specific circuits just long enough to copy them to the storage center of the orange device on her forearm. Some of the systems refused to cooperate, forcing her to ignore them temporarily.

Nall worked quickly and quietly, pausing only for the more obstinate systems. A soft scraping wafted into her audio filters followed by a clanging and the wheezing of the ship's pilot.

"What are –kshhh- you doing! –kshhh- It was –kshhh- you?" The rotund alien brandished an old pistol in one hand, waving it in a worrisome manner. "I shouldn't have –kshhh- let you aboard! –kshhh-"

Rikka held her hands up. "I'm just trying to get the ship up and running, whatever happened probably had something to do with the turian."

Nugaa seemed to both relax and tense up at the same time. "So –kshhh- you didn't –kshhh- cut the power?"

The quarian shook her head, glimpsing an alert on her omni-tool as she did. The volus noted her eyes widen.

"Wh- -kshhh- what is it?" his voice quavered.

"We need to get to engineering! NOW!"

Before he could voice any objection, Ruo felt the young woman's hand clamp around his forearm and heard her sidearm decompacting. With the push of a holographic key, the bridge sealed behind them.

* * *

Veraidian waited knife in hand, for the drell to round the corner. _It wasn't likely that Krios would be foolish enough to actually try to approach him from that direction, but even the best of warriors slipped up occasionally._ Seconds passed by, then minutes, right now it was a waiting game between two hardened combatants. The turian leaned ever so slightly past the corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of the drell in the hallway. Despite how much his eyes had adjusted to the near-black of the corridor, Nurem was barely able to see the 'ribbing' of the hall's metal supports.

The tiny red LEDs that pulsed throughout the ship provided just enough illumination to see his hand in front of his face. The turian ran over the ship's layout in his head, trying to analyze the possible routes from which his opponent could approach. It was only now that Veraidian noticed the warm fluid trickling down the back of his neck. _Thane's attack had split part of his scalp._

The Spectre swore bitterly in his head, _fringe injuries were notorious for their profuse bleeding and lengthy recovery periods._ Nurem heard a small clink and his head snapped his eyes to the left to see the quarian, followed closely by the vessel's trembling pilot.

* * *

Author's note:

**I try to use 'fractured' chapters (chapters in which the perspective changes several times) sparingly, but I still like the dynamic they can create if done right. When properly executed, it can feel akin to watching a movie or TV show in which two or more segments blend together in a way that shows a parallel or similarity between two seemingly unrelated segments. Always liked those types of scenes.**

**As to fight scenes, I finally figured out why I write them with as much detail as I do. Not only does it help the reader picture what's going on, but I've been influenced by both Eric Nylund and William C. Dietz. I don't emulate their styles, per se, but rather strive to do the opposite. In reading Dietz's "The Flood" I felt like the combat was sort of brushed over, lacking detail to the point that many of the fights felt one sided, as though the winning team had a 'god complex'. Nylund had the opposite effect. His fight scenes were obnoxiously overdramatic at times. I can understand a character having a difficult time dispatching an enemy occasionally, but to have every elite be an equal match for the Chief was a stretch that taxed my patience. Not to cast aspersions on their work, both men are stellar authors, I just don't particularly like their style of combat writing.**


	11. Skeletons

**Chapter 11: Skeletons**

* * *

Solomon wrinkled his brow as he turned the device over in his hand. It was small, brown, and egg shaped. Two ports on the top of the device had been plugged into the circuit, while another attached to some kind of antenna. The old businessman's show of confusion was only partially genuine. He didn't know what the device was, by the _did_ know who had put it there.

Nolta watched as his boss pretended to examine the device. _The man was visually attempting to convey confusion, but his body language was wrong. Kincaid knew something about what he was looking at, but exactly what, was unclear._

"Ser, ef y' don't want it en th' box, I can hav et fexed en a matter o' minutes…"

Kincaid pretended not to hear him and replaced the device in the circuit breaker.

"Ser, ef y'- never mind."

Kincaid eyed the young worker and shook his head slightly. "It's fine. Just a bit confused as to why it was installed the way it was. Why don't you go in and get something to eat?"

Nolta shrugged his shoulders and headed back to the station's primary entrance. Just as the doors sealed behind him, the quarian heard a bloodcurdling scream. _Kala!_

* * *

Thane waited, totally motionless. _The turian's words echoed in his memory, "you know I report directly to the council…". His prey had effectively claimed to be Nurem, but he couldn't be, it was too simple, too easy._ A sharp scuffling sound emanated from the corner ahead, whatever was going on ahead of him remained shrouded in a curtain of obsidian black.

-_Kshhh!_- Thane immediately recognized the distinctive hiss of a specialized, high pressure atmospheric suit. _A volus._

"But I -_Kshhh!_- can't go -_Kshhh!_- back there! -_Kshhh!_- I don't -_Kshhh!_- fit!"

A sharp order barked from the corner and the rotund alien advanced into the extremity of the drell's vision. The portly alien was visible only as a slightly lighter spot in the pitch dark of the corridor, but it was enough for the assassin to positively identify the speaker.

Immediately behind the volus, a soft orange glow flared to life, illuminating the lithe form of a female quarian, and directly behind her, the turian, brandishing a knife across her throat with a pistol in the other to keep the volus moving. "How bad do you want me, Krios? Show yourself."

* * *

Nolta rounded the corner running at full tilt, almost barreling over a petrified Solomon Kincaid. The old businessman's face was pale, both his hands were raised. It took the quarian only a moment to discern the cause for the man's fear. In the back of the room, near the bunks, Kala stood stock still, the muzzle of a Hunter VII shotgun pressed against her neck.

Nolta froze. _Roddy? No, Roddy was shorter, and didn't have a scar on his face. This man bore the mark of an old wound across his right cheek._

"All right, full party's here." The man scoffed. "Glasses, you can leave, I don't have any beef with you. In fact, you helped me out by hiring these two."

Kincaid remained frozen in place, whether he was too terrified to move or standing in defiance of the intruder, Nolta couldn't tell. What he knew was that Kala had a very dangerous piece of equipment aimed at her head and he had to think fast.

"Glasses, are you deaf? I said, screw off!"

* * *

"Hostages won't help." Krios' reply was calm and quiet, brief enough to prevent his target from fixing his location. _The statement wasn't a bluff either, once hostages were killed, any leverage the abductor had was gone._

The volus tried to stop but was encouraged to advance by the presence of the pistol against his suit. The drell silently backpedaled, matching his speed to that of the turian's advance. Thane kept his left hand on the wall next to him, waiting for the surface to drop away. A moment later, the wall stopped, indicating a shallow alcove in the corridor, exactly what he was looking for.

Thane slipped into the depression and stood ramrod straight. It only took another thirty seconds for the Turian's hostages to reach the position. Rikka tried to suppress a small gasp as she caught sight of a scaly green humanoid to her right. The tiny outburst was just enough to trigger the turian's reflexes and the volus slumped to the ground a millisecond later with a heavy pistol slug in his skull.

Krios lunged for the Spectre and pushed the quarian out of the way, down below the knife blade, then backwards into the alcove. Metal armaments scattered across the floor, lubricated by the growing pool of blood that was seeping from the volus' ruptured pressure suit. Rikka intensified the glow of her omni-tool and activated the flashlight unit, but the blackness of the ship's corridor seemed to swallow the light.

* * *

Kala's legs wouldn't move. She could feel the hot barrel of Tarret's shotgun pressed against her throat, angled to take her head off at the slightest twitch of his finger. The man's breath bore the foul reek of alcohol and Kala could feel the bile rising in her throat.

Nolta's voice barged into her consciousness, somewhat shaken, but authoritative nonetheless. "Everyone can walk out t' thes room alive, just put th' gun away."

Tarret's reply dripped sarcasm. "Of course, Ill set aside my year long vendetta, incur the Broker's wrath, and let you and curves here walk out like nothing happened."

"Nolta please…" Kala sobbed. Tarret's shotgun pressed harder against her skin.

"SHUT UP! GLASSES! SCREW THE HELL OFF ALREADY! YOU!" He nodded at Nolta, "HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!"

Nolta stared at Kala's trembling body. _She wasn't the bravest person he'd known, but something about this particular situation had her coming unraveled. She knew the man holding her hostage._ Solomon still hadn't moved.

"I bring the quarian to the Shadow Broker, he tells me where to find curves," Tarret's voice had dropped back a bit. "That was our deal, he didn't say nothin' about killin' people to one way 'er the other. You wanna die? You keep standing there."

Kincaid slowly backed away, trying to get to the door that led into the mess hall, but collided with a tall, looming beast. Solomon passed out when he realized it was a krogan.

* * *

Thane's fist flew out, catching Nurem in the chin. The turian's jaws clacked painfully and Veraidian felt his teeth piece his flesh. Another blow landed directly between his eyes followed by two more rapid fire strikes to his midsection. The Spectre rolled back and brought his leg up in a kick, catching his opponent's ribs. Thane slammed into the bulkhead, his lungs evacuated of all oxygen.

Light flashed through his eyes as Nurem spun another kick into his bruised ribs, yielding a sickening cracking sound. Even through the pain, Krios was ready for the third blow, and caught the turian's arm mid swing. A sharp twist forced the Spectre to his knee and turned him to face the quarian. Nurem knew where the next blow would come from, directly to the back of the throat, followed by a grip on his chin and a snapped neck.

Just before the drell could execute the move, Nurem summoned his biotic energies and launched a throw into the man's cracked ribs. Krios reeled back, starving for air and desperately trying to maintain consciousness against the pain.

* * *

"Well now, Barric must'a been sleeping on the job," The krogan rumbled, his deep voice identifying him immediately as Matak. "'Cept Barric never sleeps less he's s'pose to…" A dark look entered the alien's eyes and both Nolta and Tarret caught sight of the mattock in his hands. It was an archaic tool, but it was heavy and bore two sharp ends, which, in the hands of a krogan, made it a superlatively dangerous weapon.

Matak continued. "Which means he was either knocked out…" he stepped towards the intruder. "…Or killed. I don't like it when my co-workers get hurt." The look in the old krogan's eyes was downright terrifying. Tarret involuntarily stepped back.

Nolta saw his opportunity and lunged at Kala's captor. The shotgun blast went wide, driving tiny pellets into the ceiling. Before anything else could happen, Nolta lashed out with his arm, intent on pushing Kala out of harm's way. To his shock, even before he touched her, the young woman was thrown into the far wall. Nolta froze. _What had he just-_

Tarret's shotgun thundered and grazed Lae's environment suit. Sparks flared along the length of the quarian's kinetic barriers as the shield system was overloaded and failed. Nolta found himself hurled to the ground and a bloodcurdling roar echoed through the room. The quarian shook off the haze in his head just in time to witness Matak executed a powerful swing, sinking the tip of the mattock's blade into Tarret's shoulder and causing the man's sidearm to skitter across the floor.

The human screamed in agony as the krogan readied another strike. Before the old mining tool could finish its arc though, Tarret's shotgun thundered, once, twice, then a third time, slamming a deluge of metal into Matak's midsection. The old krogan crumpled to the ground, leaking blood from dozens of tiny holes in his stomach. Tarret walked over to Nolta and delivered a savage kick to his helmet, producing hairline fractures in his mask. Lae's world went black.

* * *

Thane dodged the first swing, then the second, then countered with one of his own. Nurem narrowly evaded the blow, rocking back on his heels to do so. In the dim light, it was nearly impossible to go on sight, and each combatant had to rely on instinct honed from years of training and field work. Rikka crouched several feet away, not wanting to stay but unable to leave.

_Should she help one of them? The turian had used her as a hostage and killed the pilot, but she had no idea who the other was, or for that matter, _what_ he was._ Nall scrambled backwards as the fight worked its way over in her direction. The young woman's eyes were somewhat better suited to see in the blackened confines of the craft than were the two men battling before her.

Rikka became transfixed on the intricate dance of death being executed by the turian and the drell. Each moved with such speed, such lithe grace, it was impossible to follow all of their movements. The fight shifted so that she could catch a glimpse of the two men's eyes. The same murderous glare still lurked in Nurem's visage, while the other's face bore the marks of intense concentration and focus.

xXx

Thane finally managed to gain a few feet from his target, just enough to safely draw his knife. Veraidian lunged forward as the blade came up, etching a chrome line in the blue paint of his armor. The turian made a feint for the weapon, trying to get the drell to pull it away and create an opening, but Krios instead drove the blade forward, catching the turian by surprise. Orange light from the quarian's omni-tool gleamed off of the knife, a flaming blade in the assassin's grasp. A solid thump echoed as the Spectre was driven from his feet and into the bulkhead, blood seeping from the seal at his waist.

Thane panted as his eyes scanned the floor. The glint of dull gray metal caught his eye against the white paint on the corridor. Nurem was just coming to when Thane sighted down the barrel of the pistol. Seven muzzle flashes later, the Spectre's armor failed and a slug passed through the bottom of his right lung, stopping just past the tissue. Thane's face contorted into a scowl as Nurem sank to the floor. "Drown in the sea."

* * *

Author's note:

**Thane's presence in the story is already a bit more significant than I'd guessed it would have been, but that's fine. In fact, He'll be getting at least a quarter of the next chapter in terms of screen time. And yes, his involvement will be meaningful. I didn't just throw him in for the heck of it.**


	12. Wounds

**Chapter 12: Wounds**

* * *

Nolta swam back to consciousness with a dull throbbing in his skull. His vision was blurry at first, but as it cleared, something sharpened in his sight that sent his heart-rate through the ceiling. A thin, glittering line sat in the glass of his visor, an indication of a possible suit breach. The quarian shifted slightly as he felt his arm being pulled back behind him, drawing his attention away from the mask.

Lae's eyes grew wide as he realized he was being bound. A heavy breathing loomed above him, broken by occasional grunting. _How_ _long had he been out? Kala! Was she- He had to stop, had to think. How could he get out of this?_ To his credit, Nolta regained enough presence of mind to spread his arms ever so slightly against the crude bonds as they were tightened. When his captor had finished at his arms, Nolta relaxed his shoulders and stealthily began to work the ties at his wrists, using the slack he'd created.

The quarian closed his eyes as the other crossed in front of him and began to bind him at the ankles. Lae continued to feign unconsciousness and waited until the man was just about to tie the first knot. In one short second, the young pilgrim drew his legs up to his chest, pulling the other closer to him, then kicked out, catching his foe square in the chest. Blood splattered on Nolta's visor, and the thud that came a moment later confirmed his guess that the kick had sent his target nearly ten feet.

As quickly as he could, Nolta struggled to his feet, hurrying to free his arms the whole time. He saw the man that had restrained Kala on the floor, only a few feet away, clutching his shoulder and chest. _He was still at Endeavor. _They_ were still at Endeavor._

Tarret struggled to his feet, a look of pure malice in his eyes. Nolta tried to back up, tripped on something, and went crashing backwards. _The mattock!_ Before he could make a move to grab the weapon, Nolta felt the impact of a pistol slug accompanied by the sharp ping as it ricocheted from his shields. The quarian rolled to one side, narrowly avoiding Tarret's slugs. A spray of dark plastic compound struck him in the arm, stinging despite the fabric of his environment suit.

Nolta rolled forward and pushed with his feet, launching directly into his assailant. His helmet cushioned the blow, but not entirely. Nolta felt a near-crippling pain surge through his spine as he impacted the human's midsection. The man stumbled back as Nolta struggled to his feet. As the pistol came up, Lae looked around himself for anything he could use to defend himself. The mattock lay on the floor, its composite handle shattered by the human's pistol fire.

Tarret's finger tensed on the trigger and he placed a boot on the quarian's throat. "Shadow Broker never said I had to bring you in alive, just in one piece." Nolta's eyes strained at the mattock, desperate for some salvation, willing it to move. Tarret squeezed off a round. The slug shattered against Nolta's remaining shields, draining what little power had been left in the field projector.

The second shot went wide and Tarret gave a bone chilling scream as a sharp metal blade emerged from his chest. Nolta's eyes widened in the realization that the mattock's blade was protruding from his assailant. Pistol rounds started flying everywhere as Tarret stumbled back, clutching at the two inch piece of metal showing through his shirt.

Tarret finally collapsed in a pool of blood. Nolta shakily got his feet underneath him for the umpteenth time, his arms still bound behind his back. Narrow white eyes glowed from behind the young man's dark visor as he stepped over to Tarret and settled a foot on the stump of the mining tool's handle. A savage push buried the blade halfway and the man's spine gave a sickening crack.

Nolta panted, exhausted from the encounter, only to remember Kala. He turned to find her, crumpled in the corner, a limp body in a slowly growing puddle of blood.

* * *

Thane stared at Veraidian's corpse for a moment before copying the man's omni-tool files to an OSD. The process only took a few seconds, and then he turned his attention in full to the young woman who'd watched the fight. Thane saw her brandishing a standard civilian sidearm, the barrel trembling uncertainly in her hands. Krios held up his hands to show they were empty.

"I imagine that's the first time you've seen something like that."

A single, curt nod was the only reply.

"I regret that I wasn't fast enough to save your Volus frie-"

"Shut up." Her initial fear had largely subsided now that the alien had spoken to her without making any further hostile actions. Now she felt angry.

"You're the one who… who disabled power to the ship… broke down the firewalls." Rikka's own forwardness startled her, but she had more to say. "You… you could have left well enough alone… neither of them had to die."

The drell eyed her for a moment. "He did." Thane indicated the downed turian. "I did not kill the volus. That was Veraidian's work…" Krios holstered his pistol. "When I boarded this ship I thought him merely a contact of my wife's murderer. His skill revealed otherwise."

Rikka remained silent. So many emotions rushed through her. _Fear, the man with whom she was speaking could probably kill her dozens of different ways in the blink of an eye. Anger, she should have seen it coming. Confusion, who was he?_

The corridor's air seemed to hang stale and ominous in the protracted silence. Thane finally breached the quiet. "It has been a long time since I have seen one of your people. If I were to guess, you are probably on your pilgrimage."

Rikka's head jerked back as if she had been struck. Thane watched as she gave small, furtive glances to each side, as though searching for a response. _Torr knowing about the pilgrimage had been surprising enough, but to meet an individual from a species she knew nothing about who also shared such knowledge…_

"H- how do you… how do you know about that? What are you even?"

Thane bowed deeply at the waist. "My apologies. I am a drell. My name is Thane Krios, I am- was- an assassin for the Hanar Illuminated Primacy." The drell couldn't see her face, but he was no stranger to the distrust engendered when he revealed his occupation.

Rikka swallowed hard. _In all of her pre-pilgrimage briefings, she'd never heard of a drell, though her first impression was something of a mix between distrust, fear, and awe._ It took a moment for her to find words. "So… who hired you to kill him?"

"No one. I chose to pursue him after the murder of my wife." He broke eye contact and looked at her hands.

The quarian realized that her pistol was still trained at the drell. That revelation brought another; _the gun pointed at his chest didn't phase him outwardly in the slightest. If he were an assassin like he claimed, he'd probably had guns pointed at him dozens of times._

"There is no need for you to keep your sidearm trained on me. I have no intentions of causing you harm." His words seemed like he'd read her mind, which did nothing to ease her frayed nerves.

Tentatively, Rikka stowed the pistol, keeping her omni-tool ready as a precaution. "I'm Rikka. Rikka'Nall nar Tugara."

* * *

Kala's blood was all over his environment suit. It had taken him nearly a full minute to locate the source of the bleeding and half a tube of medigel to stop it. One of the stray bullets fired by Tarret in his death throes has sliced through Kala's hip. The wound in and of itself wasn't life threatening, but the amount of blood she had lost was a source of no small concern to Nolta.

Matak was still alive- barely- his ability to take three shotgun blasts to the abdomen was a testament to the krogan's vitality. Kincaid popped his head into the room just in time to see Nolta bent over Kala's motionless form, silent tears plinking on his mask. The old businessman frowned.

"Is she…"

Nolta took a minute to answer. "Not yet… She… she lost a lot o' blood." Solomon heard the anguish in the young man's voice and somberly made his way over to him. The quarian felt the older man's arm across his shoulder.

"I, I've only known 'er, fer a few months. Et's- she can't… ET'S NOT FAIR!"

Nolta's breath came in ragged pulls. Kincaid couldn't find words. He wasn't usually the kind to offer encouragement or compassion, but in this situation he felt compelled. A shallow gasp caught both of them off guard.

Nolta's breathing quickened as he watched Kala pull in her own shallow drafts of air. The young woman's eyes fluttered open, a look of immense fatigue covering her features. Her gaze drifted up. By this point, the rest of the mining crew had arrived in the room. Roddy was near enough to be the first face she caught sight of. Youri's already paled face turned ashen white, and tears began to leak from the corners of her eyes.

It only took a moment for Nolta to put two and two together and figure out what had further upset her. Roddy felt a rough shove on his shoulder and looked up to see the cold gaze of the quarian staring him down.

"Kala et's alright. The man who attacked you es dead, I kelled 'em, Kala. He won't be a problem anymore." The sound of Nolta's thick brogue brought a semblance of calm to her frayed nerves.

"Then… who…" her already soft voice was weak, enough to worry him.

"That was jest Roddy."

"I'm scared, Nolta. My whole body hurts."

Kincaid rose and hurriedly motioned the rest of the miners out of the room, following behind. Nolta had already done everything that he could for the woman; it was time to allow them some peace.

The quarian waited until the room was empty, then slid his arms under her legs and back, gently lifting her from the dull red floor. Strong though he was, Nolta found himself straining to lift the 90 odd kilos of near dead weight. A minute and a half later, they arrived at the airlock door, waiting for the chamber to cycle open.

Kala eyed Nolta questioningly. A subtle shake of the head was the only reply she received. After the airlock had opened, Nolta took a deep breath and stepped inside. The chamber sealed behind them and began the decontamination sequence. Thin UV beams traveled across the couple as he gently set her down. Nolta waited until the decon process was done and pressed his omni-tool, canceling the door opening cycle.

"I've known I'll hav t' return t' th' fleet sooner or later. I guess, et was selfish o' me t' let y' come along. I'm sorry Kala."

Kala shook her head feebly and caressed his mask with one hand. "No. It's, it's O.K. Tarret would've found me whether I came with you or not. He's hated me ever since I refused him. Ever since the holo-shoot…"

A long silence followed the comment as Nolta processed the revelation. "There's somethen' I've wanted t' do for a while now…" he hesitated, as if unsure. "I want you t' see my face…"

Kala let out a small gasp. "Nolta…"

"I can't bear t' leave y' wethout… er, ef y, don't want te…"

She managed a weak smile. "I'd like to, but, won't you, I mean, you'll get sick, right?"

The quarian offered a noncommittal shrug. "Et's possible." He reached up to the sides of his mask.

Kala's hand found it's way to his forearm. "No Nolta. Don't risk it." Her eyes glittered with extra moisture. "You'll have to leave soon anyways. Don't… don't risk your life for that…"

* * *

Author's note:

**I'm in a conundrum. I could very well kill off this character, (the injury and blood loss are there should I choose to go that route) but I've gotten truly attached to *spoiler*. Doing so would tie up one loose end, only to create another. Either way, it's gonna suck.**


	13. Goodbye

**Chapter 13: Goodbye**

* * *

Nolta finished applying the tech sealant to the crack on his mask and sighed in relief as the hairline fracture in the glass seemed to disappear. He stared down at the young woman on the airlock floor. As much as he wanted to show her his face, he knew she was right. Once he'd earned enough credits, he'd be returning to the fleet and they'd part ways. Kala smiled and reached up to grab his shoulder. Her grip wasn't particularly strong, but it was firm enough to alleviate much of Nolta's anxiety.

"Can you carry me to my cot?"

The quarian nodded somberly. "Aye. I thenk I can de one better, I'll get y' t' th' infermary."

With that, he keyed his omni-tool and slid his arms under her legs and back. Kala's eyes closed as Nolta felt the weight of her head settle on his shoulder. For a brief moment, He considered not returning to the fleet. _He had a good thing going here. Kincaid had been nothing but positive about his work ethic, Kala was here, everyone back at the fleet knew he was different and he was only just learning about why…_

The pilgrim stood, Kala now fitfully asleep in his arms, and re-entered Mining Station Endeavor. Kincaid and Barric were helping a groggy Matak to his feet as Nolta passed through the room. At the sight of the young couple, the security officer nodded to his boss to indicate he could handle the job. Solomon peeled away from the task, glad to have a reason to stop lifting the colossal digger.

"Nolta, I, I just want you to know I, uh, I'm sorry for what happened to Kala, to you."

The quarian kept walking, knowing that, strong as he was, he wouldn't be able to hold his charge indefinitely. He gave a small shake of his head to acknowledge that he'd heard the businessman's comment even as he replied. "Ne, et was my fault fer letten' 'er come weth me."

The elder man struggled to keep pace. "All the same, I feel I owe you. I, uh… wasn't entirely honest when I agreed to hire the two of you."

Nolta gave the man a sideways look. "That so?"

* * *

Thane exhaled as he finished wrapping his torso with a specialized medical tape. For a few moments, he remained totally motionless, his eyes closed in the tiny infirmary as he waited for the painkillers to deaden the searing ache in his ribs. Rikka watched as the drell resumed his task, administering tiny doses of potent healing compounds through a hypodermic injector.

"I don't suppose you have any family?" She posited, trying to liven the atmosphere.

"I told you I was hunting my wife's murderers. Beyond that, I do not wish to explain." Thane removed the needle from the cybernetic injection port at the base of his spine before fishing through his vest. Rikka shook her head as she realized that he had put even that item in an exact position relative to the medical equipment in the room. _Everything he did was meticulous, planned, and utterly thorough._

The drell slipped his arms into the black vest. "And you? What of your family?"

Rikka stared at the ground, uncertain. "I uh, like every other quarian I guess."

"That tells me little." Thane responded, "Though I suppose that is fair, given what I've told you." He lifted himself from the medical bed and finished buttoning his jacket. The smooth black fabric gave him a smooth appearance, not unlike some of the more well-to- do humans she'd seen in vids. _Even injured, he bore a singular grace, a bearing that further enhanced the air of aristocracy. It wasn't the type of feeling she would have expected to get from an assassin._

"I do have a family, a son. His name is Kolyat. He is currently under the watchful eyes of my brothers and sisters." Thane's expression went blank for a moment, his eyes seemingly lost in the dim lighting of the corridor. Rikka thought she could see traces of tears along his scaled face. A quick brush of his arm across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose confirmed the suspicion.

She looked away, then glanced back at him. "My… father serves aboard a liveship as a guard, used to be in the migrant fleet marines. My mother is a, was a field medic, now she… helps run sanitation."

"A thankless profession, but perhaps one that deserves the most."

The next question spilled from her lips before she had a chance to sop it. "What are you going to do with me?"

Krios gave her a sideways stare, as if perplexed by her query. "I had originally planned to extract my information from my target, administer an amnesiac to him, and continue on my way. Your presence and _his_ true identity caused me to… adjust my plans."

He noted her hand move closer to her pistol. "I have no need to cause you harm. As I understand it, this ship belonged to a volus without any next of kin. That means it is legally a free-salvage vessel by Citadel law. I have no need of it, and I would guess you have a ways to go…" He let his words hang in the air.

Rikka tried not to hyperventilate. _The ship could be her pilgrimage gift! Any Captain would be eager to accept such a significant presentation._ "I, uh, thanks! That's… wow!"

The drell almost seemed to smile. "Good luck Rikka'Nall nar Tugara. May you find what you seek." With that, the alien walked a few meters into the darkened hallway, then vanished.

Rikka gave her head a vigorous shake after the meaning of his parting words dawned on her. _She had never told him her birth ship's name. Had he known about her all along?_

* * *

"In all honesty, I have no idea who this 'Shadow Broker' is." Kincaid finished pouring a cup of coffee and offered it to Nolta. The quarian raised his hands to decline.

"Dextro-amino."

Kincaid offered a grunt. "Of course." He proceeded to add a few packs of sweetener to the drink before taking a sip. Nolta found his eyes trailing across the room. _He'd only been in the boss's office twice before, and neither occasion had been particularly lengthy. This time he got the feeling that the conversation might become protracted._

"I have little information other than what that man said in the foyer. He mentioned something about you in particular I think."

"And Kala."

"Yes, he called her 'curves'." Solomon took another sip of his coffee. "Kinda makes you think they had a history…"

"Kala was nervous around Roddy, now I know why. He looked exactly like Tarret."

An eyebrow emerged above the rim of Kincaid's glasses. "So she did know him?"

"Aye. She mentioned somethen' about a holo-shoot, beyond that, she 'asn't said much." Nolta's voice seemed subdued.

Kincaid started to say something but stopped. He set his coffee down and took a seat behind the desk, lacing his fingers together. _In the brief time he had known the quarian, the young man had shown himself to be an aggressive problem solver, searching for answers or solutions with an initiative that set him apart from his coworkers. When it came to personal issues, however, he was reserved, allowing others to take their time and answer. The real meat of the conversation, would never get reached if it wasn't presented directly._

"Nolta, when you and Kala first landed here, I was set on turning you down. I didn't have the funds to cover any liabilities the two of you could have incurred. I hired you because…" he took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I- when I came back here, to my office, there was a krogan waiting for me. He grabbed me by the shirt and held me against the wall, threatened to kill me if I didn't hire you."

The quarian's eyes narrowed to slits. "Why?"

Kincaid shrugged. "Never asked him... I'm… pretty sure he's the one who installed that, whatever it was in the circuit breaker."

"D' y' thenk he's th' Shadow Broker?"

"I don't know, Nolta, I don't think so… it wouldn't make any sense for him to come here and not grab you if he were. At least, not if Tarret's story was legitimate."

It took a few moments before Nolta replied. "Unless he dedn't want a direct connection t' my abduction."

"Maybe, but he doesn't sound like he cares about appearances, at least, not by his nickname." The businessman stroked his chin, taking a small comfort in the familiar scratch of his stubble.

The office remained silent for several seconds. Kincaid finally spoke. "I'd like to make it up to you. Fix it all as best I can."

The quarian tilted his head. "How d' y' mean?"

"Our… quarterly shipment goes out this Tuesday, that's four days from now. I know you have to return to your fleet soon. I think you also said something about wanting your payment in element zero?"

Nolta nodded.

"I'm ready to have our freighter alter course to rendezvous with the quarian fleet. They could drop off both you and the cargo."

The pilgrim was dumbstruck. "That's… three months' eezo…" He shook his head. "No ser, I can't accept that. I haven't earned that. Iv'e only werked here fer te weeks."

"You've done an exemplary job, son. The station hasn't been in better repair since the day it was built, and you've gone out of your way to address tasks that you could have put off. 'Sides, I said I wanted to make it up to you, set things right, I meant that."

Nolta shook his head again. "I can't… You've got a crew to pay…"

Solomon snorted and leaned forward on his desk. "I've got more than enough in reserve to cover my teams' salaries."

"At least… give Kala half of m' earnings. Ne, better make et two therds."

"I'll look after Kala. If she wants to keep working here, she's welcome to, If she wants to leave, I'll give her some funds, get 'er back on 'er feet."

Lae remained totally still, contemplating the offer.

"Nolta?"

"Aye. Thank y' ser. I should… probably check on 'er…" He tentatively turned to go. "I'll find a way te repay y' ser. Ef I can, I well."

"You already have, son. You already have."

* * *

Kala slept peacefully on the mattress in the mining station's infirmary. Nolta watched as her slight frame betrayed her gentle breathing, calm and consistent. _He hated that he would have to wake her. She looked so beautiful just laying there. The small, delicate features of her face bathed in a soft blue light made the whole scene so tranquil and serene._

The quarian sighed deeply and took a seat at the foot of the bed, careful to set down gently enough to avoid disturbing her. The station's medic, Jinnic, had administered a strong painkiller and reapplied a medigel plug to the wound. Tarret's bullet hadn't passed through the bone, but rather cut into the young woman's muscle tissue, resulting in her having a very difficult time standing at all, let alone without pain.

Lae sat at the foot of the bed for almost a half hour contemplating his decision to leave. _He didn't _technically_ have to return to the fleet, he could always stay here and work… Then there was the fact that he seemed to be regarded as 'special' among the fleet. On the flipside, he was a rare gift to the quarian people… one that they would not abandon lightly._ Kala stirred.

The quarian stood, momentarily forgetting to do so gently. By the time he realized it, Kala had woken enough to realize she wasn't alone in the room.

"Nolta?"

He knelt at the head of the mattress, bringing his mask to her eye level. "Aye? I'm here Kala. What d' y' need?"

"Nolta, I'm scared…"

There's nothen t' be scared of Kala. Ye'r goin' t' be fine."

"Not me, Nolta, for you. Tarret… whoever helped him find me… he was after you…"

Nolta's eyes closed for a moment as he shook his head. "I'll be fine, Kala. Tha's what I wanted t' tell y'. Kincaid offered me a ride back t' th' fleet. I leave en four days."

Kala offered a somber nod. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you te."

* * *

Author's Note:

**I had very strongly considered killing Kala. It would have allowed for an incredibly emotional scene in which Nolta would have removed his mask, and later named his daughter after her, but that is history. Now, our young quarian's adventure will make its way to the confines of the migrant fleet.**


	14. Return

**Chapter 14: Return**

* * *

In truth, Kincaid was sorry to see the quarian off. _The young man had been nothing if not helpful, and the quality of his work was exemplary. What little the businessman thought he knew about quarians had been turned on its head in two short weeks. They had a bad reputation galaxy-wide, scorned as thieves and beggars. Nolta, however, was either an exception, or else the stereotype was misleading at best._

As the pilgrim stepped aboard the _Starlit Endeavor_ he felt Solomon Kincaid's thoughtful gaze on his back, accompanied by the tearful eyes of Kala. _He would never see her again._ Bile rose in his throat at the thought. _He knew he had to return to the Migrant Fleet, but he'd always thought this would be an occasion he'd anticipate happily. Not once had the thought crossed his mind that he might not want to go back._

The quarian allowed himself a single, tortured glance at the first woman he'd ever loved. Even through the tears, he could see her sad smile, her radiant eyes, and her pale gold hair. He burned the image into his memory as best he could. It was something he would cherish. With a final wave, Nolta'Lae nar Ichtome took the final step into the passenger compartment and the airlock sealed behind him.

Kincaid looked over at the young woman standing next to him. "I don't think I ever asked, but, how did the two of you meet?"

She knew he was trying to divert her attention from the sadness of the moment, and she was happy to oblige. A faint smile crossed her lips as she recalled their first weeks together. "It was weird really. I was on sentinel duty back at the outpost on Korlus…"

* * *

Rikka'Nall nar Tugara listened as Thane's ship disengaged its docking clamps and sped off to Keelah knew where. The young woman pinged her omni-tool twice and the ship's schematics scrolled across the digital HUD in her visor. A few minutes later, she had memorized enough information to have a basic understanding of the small craft's limits. Rikka's fingers flew across the vessel's control panel in an intricate dance, bringing various systems on and offline.

Gentle blue light filled the cabin and the nav system began to power up. Something about being behind the controls of a ship felt comforting to her. The young quarian checked her omni-tool again to ascertain the position of the Migrant Fleet and punched in the coordinates. The VCV Gu Onar's engines flared, then roared to life as the small transport did an about face towards the Omega prime relay. Rikka sighed as the vessel began to accelerate, leaning back as the stars streaked past at an ever increasing rate.

_Soon, she would see the fleet again. Soon, she would be home._

* * *

The Starlit Endeavor shuddered as it completed its jump, its tiny hull quivering from the massive forces required to catapult if across the vastness of space. No sooner had the blue sheen of FTL travel worn off than the pilot picked up a signal. Nolta sat next to the man and instantly recognized the language of his people. _His stomach did a flip and he briefly wondered if he had brought an adequate pilgrimage gift._

The quarian shook his head to clear his thoughts. _There was no sense in backing down now. He had come to complete his pilgrimage and return to his people, there was no better time than now._

Suddenly, the freighter's radio buzzed to life. "Unidentified craft, alter your heading, you are approaching the quarian Migrant Fleet. All unauthorized vessels within the kill zone will be shot down."

Lae could see his pilot's face pale visibly and reached for the comm. "Thes es Nolta'Lae nar Ichtome aboard cevelian cargo freighter Starlit Endeavor. This vessel bears both me and m' pelgremage geft."

"Acknowledged, Nolta'Lae, verify your identity."

Nolta took a deep breath and recited the verse his ship's captain had given him upon his departure. "Having lerned thus, I rejoin my brethren; that freely offered, a geft es a blessing, both to he who receives and he who gevs. Stolen, et es a curse to any that touch et."

A few moments passed, during which Nolta was fairly certain his pilot was about ready to sweat blood. Finally, the reply came. "Welcome home, Nolta'Lae, to which captain do you wish to present your gift?"

Nolta had actually given a great deal of thought to this question both before and during his pilgrimage. _He wanted to join a military vessel, one with a high standing in the fleet, the Andras was destroyer of respectable size that would easily fit this bill._ "I wesh t' present my geft t' th' captain of the Andras. I would like a security and quarantine team to meet us. Our shep es not clean."

"Understood," A pause. "The Andras grants you clearance to dock. Approach exterior docking cradle four."

The coordinates were fed into the freighter's nav console a moment later, and the pilot began to weave through the dense body of ships. Most of the large or medium sized craft had fixed positions relative to the other vessels, but small picket patrols of fighters occasionally sped through the fleet.

Nolta felt his heart rising in his throat as they neared the Andras. The warship's long hull sloped on both the top and bottom with a curve toward the front that made the vessel look like a thick sword-blade. The middle decks along the length of the destroyer bristled with heavy accelerator turrets and disruptor torpedo tubes. Four docking ports rested in the ship's underbelly, their reinforced blast doors painted over in layers of black, clearly distinguishing them from the patchy gray of the rest of the vessel.

Starlit Endeavor glided into position beneath Nolta's chosen port of call. No sound emanated from the hulls as the two craft delicately connected, forming an airtight seal in a matter of seconds. Seconds passed, then a minute, then two minutes. Nolta's pilot began to get nervous.

"Why haven't they popped the hatch?"

The quarian remained totally calm outwardly. "They hav' t' do a thorough scan fer threats, y' know, explosives, geth, th' like. All military sheps en th' fleet go through extensive security sweeps of unknown craft above a certain size before allowing a full dock."

The human nodded quietly, not fully understanding but content enough that his passenger seemed un-phased. In truth, Nolta's pulse was elevated and he could feel his palms sweating. His nervousness was not that they would vent the ship, but rather an uncertainty as to what the captain of the Andras would think of his pilgrimage gift.

Lae's racing mind was stopped by the sound of the docking bay doors parting to admit entrance. The low mechanical whine of the machinery reverberated through the freighter and Nolta watched the panel in front of him as various human signals scrolled across the screen. The pilot sat diligently watching the screen as well and seemed to relax as the lines indicated full system alignment.

"Nolta'Lae vas Andras, you are cleared to board." The operator's voice bore a twinge of excitement that was hard to disguise.

Nolta himself was thoroughly confused. _He hadn't been formerly inducted into the crew and they were already calling him 'vas Andras'. He had hadn't even presented his pilgrimage gift to the warship's captain let alone met the man face to face._ Suspicion wove through his mind as he pressed the comm channel on his omni-tool.

"Understood, I'm on my way from th' bridge."

* * *

When Nolta arrived at the Andras' dock, he was greeted by the security team he had requested- as well as a squad-full of armed escorts. The young man's eyes narrowed in confusion as he was led to the mess hall. The doors to the mess parted smoothly, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the young man. Smooth operation of mundane systems tended to indicate better maintenance or youth of the vessel, which in turn signified both the ship and its crew as being of greater importance.

Several officers stood to greet the pilgrim and his escort as he entered the room. Nolta was quick to notice the ship's captain, decked in the traditional black and gold cowl of a high rank military official. The particular personal touches to his environment suit identified the man as Genro'Tenga vas Andras, one of the most respected officers in the fleet.

Genro stepped forward to greet his prospective crewmember and extended his hand, which Nolta took.

"A pleasure to have you aboard. Your father is on his way to see you personally."

"Ser." Nolta dipped his head in deference. "Uhm… have y' already seen m' pelgremage geft?"

"There is no need," the officer smiled. "You alone are a worthy presentation to this ship."

"Ser, ef I may speak freely?"

"Of course." Tenga replied

"Ef et's all the same, I'd like t' show 't t' ye. I don't feel right about et elsewise."

The Captain nodded. "Very Well."

The knot of soldiers made their way back to the freighter, still docked at the fourth bay. Nolta keyed the sequence he'd been given by Kincaid and the Starlit Endeavor's cargo hatch opened to reveal several tons of element zero.

"Keelah! Et's more than we agreed te…" Nolta mumbled under his breath.

The Andras' captain turned to face the young man, his eyes betraying a smile of admiration. "I've seen some strange offerings before, but this is downright incredible. We've needed a fresh batch of eezo for a while now. Yes, son, this'll so nicely."

The pilgrim was slightly agitated. _It felt almost as if he was being gloated over. The feeling was all too familiar, and he didn't like it in the slightest, but for now there was little he could do. Asking for a transfer immediately after being accepted onto a ship was a great insult to a captain and would sully both of their reputations. For now, he would tolerate the situation._

* * *

Roha'Lae was ecstatic upon hearing that his son had returned to the fleet, but his exuberance was fueled to even greater proportions when he learned the name of the boy's chosen ship. The Andras was one of the most respected vessels in the fleet, commanded by none other than Captain Genro'Tenga.

The Ichtome's captain had granted Roha special dispensation to visit his son upon the boy's return, and now the elder quarian was on his way to see the newly christened Nolta'Lae _vas_ Andras.

* * *

Nolta was decidedly _unhappy_ at the sight of his father working his way towards the front of the residential deck where he'd been assigned his quarters. All of the memories of the lies his father had told him about his mother's death came boiling to the surface. The young man's eyes narrowed as his father approached. The elder quarian's arms were outstretched as he neared his son.

"Nolta, my boy! You've returned! With a cruiser's core worth of eezo if my shuttle pilot is to be believed!" The smile dissipated from Roha's face as he got close enough to see the look in his son's eyes. The glare coming from behind the young man's mask could have frozen an ocean.

"You lied te me." Like his expression, the words were delivered in a tone as cold as liquid oxygen.

Roha was bewildered. "Wh- what?"

"About mother, about me, about why everyone treated me defferent. Y' dedn't have the guts t' tell me th' truth."

"Nolta, what is this all about?"

"Mother died because of how she was exposed, dedn't she? Et slowly ate her nervous sestem." Roha felt the venom in his son's voice and knew the boy had discovered more than even Admiral Gerrel had anticipated.

"Your mother died in childbirth, son. I told you-"

"I KNOW what you told me!" A few of the Andras' crew had already begun to listen in on the conversation. "Come t' thenk about et, why dedn't y' tell me why I was defferent? Ded y' thenk I'd be able to defend m'self BETTER ef I dedn't know about my biotics? ! _THAT I WAS STUPID ENOUGH T' GO BLABBER'N ET EVERYWHERE_? !" Nolta felt the rage coursing through him, a hot, burning anger at everything he been kept from. At his father.

"Nolta, I-"

"Shut the bloody hell up! I heard y' talken en th' engine room of th' Ichtome, all those years ago. Y' don't understand me and y' damn well don't care about me enough t' tell me the truth! I learned a lot on m' pelgremage, and none of et confermed even ONE theng y' told me about m'self or mother."

Roha felt cold, his stomach was literally chilling his insides. His son was practically disowning him. "Nolta…" Words wouldn't come.

"Ef y' can't talk t' me straight I got no reason t' lesten t' you. Kala nearly died because I couldn't save her. I could barely save myself!"

"Kala?"

"Wouldn't y' like t' know?" With those words, the newest member of the Andras turned on his heel and quick walked to his quarters, a small, ten by ten cube identical to those shared by the rest of the ship's inhabitants. Roha'Lae vas Ichtome simply stood in place, just as shocked as the rest of the quarians who had listened in on the exchange.

* * *

Author's Note:

**In case it wasn't obvious: Nolta's a bit miffed at his old man. If he knew the whole story, he'd be even more pissed. Suffice to say, it's gonna be a while before those two quarians resume speaking terms.**


	15. Bunkies'

**Act 2: Migrant Fleet Marine**

**Chapter 15: 'Bunkies'**

* * *

Nolta lay in his bunk, going over the 'conversation' he'd had with his father. Looking back at the words he'd used he could admit that he'd been a little strong in his choice of words, but given what had nearly happened- and what had- he still felt justified in his tirade. Perhaps it was all just stress that had made him so angry. Returning to the fleet after months away, leaving his first love, having been nearly killed…

Stress could have definitely played a significant role. He needed something to eat. The quarian pried himself from his bunk and made his way to the mess hall, acknowledging the greetings of his new crewmates along the way.

* * *

Rikka guided the Gu Onar into position with the Andras' second docking cradle. Her experience entering the fleet had been largely similar to Nolta's, barring the presence of another being in the vessel asking questions. She had spaced the volus' corpse, a decision she still felt mildly guilty about, but if Thane had been trustworthy, the diminutive pilot had had no next of kin or other family to whom his corpse could be sent.

She'd made the decision to join the Andras long before setting out on her pilgrimage. The warship was commanded by an officer of high standing in the fleet and was a relatively new vessel, only a couple of decades old. The best part was that the warship wasn't fully staffed in civilian assignments, exactly the type of place where a young mechanic like herself would be quick to fit in.

Rikka waited until the compulsory scan was completed before leaving the cockpit of the transport. As soon as the security and quarantine cleared her, she proceeded to the mess hall. The ship's captain stood waiting at the door and offered her a handshake.

"Miss Nall? I saw the ship you brought in. Impressive piece, looks fairly new."

The young woman nodded. "Yes sir. Nine years I think."

"Excellent! How'd you come across it?"

_Oh Keelah! She'd been so happy to be on her way back to the fleet, she hadn't anticipated that question._ "A uh, accident resulted in the pilot's death, apparently he had no next of kin, so…"

Captain Tenga nodded understandingly. "Nothing to be ashamed of Miss. Better we get it than some vorcha. 'Sides, I came across my pilgrimage gift the same way. 'course, that was on Omega…"

Rikka sensed his smile.

"So, you want to join the crew of the Andras?"

She nodded. "Yes sir."

"Good." The approval in his voice was easy enough to pick up. "Had a brief chat with your folks during the ship scan, your old man says you're good with repairs. You plan to work mechanical?"

The young woman offered another nod.

"All right, then. Welcome to the ship, Rikka'Nall vas Andras. I'll show you to your quarters."

* * *

Nolta hadn't even made it off of the crew-deck when the ship's captain came around the corner, leading a shapely female quarian very much his junior. _He was tempted to arch an eyebrow at the sight, but thought better of it. It was his first day aboard and he had no need to cause trouble._ To Lae's dismay, the Captain did not simply pass by, but actually stopped.

"Ah! Nolta! Good thing we ran into you here. This is Rikka'Nall vas Andras, She showed up a few minutes after your father left." He chuckled. "Almost like the two of you planned to end up on the same ship." He winked at Nolta, evidently convinced that his two new crewmates had some history. "Anyway, since you have an empty space in your quarters, I figured I'd station her in the same bunk, if you're all right with that…"

Rikka felt her cheeks warm. _Even though they were all in their environment suits, she felt as embarrassed as if she were totally naked in front of the whole fleet. It had never crossed her mind that she might be asked to share her quarters with a _male _quarian, let alone one who was quite so tall and obviously… …fit…_

_Such arrangements weren't rare, in fact, bonded couples almost always lived in the same bunk, but she hadn't even met this man before. From the looks of it, he could snap the captain in two, or her for that matter._

"Mess Nall." The tall quarian whom Captain Tenga had identified as Nolta gave a respectful dip of his head. He looked over to the captain. "I was jest on m' way te th' mess hall. Ef y' rather I show her t' her quarters…"

"No, that'll be fine, son."

* * *

Rikka stopped just inside her new quarters. Evidently, the young man with whom she would be sharing her room had either just arrived or preferred little in the way of decoration. All four walls were bare, excepting a double bunk along the front wall and a simple synthetic table mounted in the far left corner along with two fold out chairs. The only privacy given to the twelve by ten square was afforded by a large cloth suspended across the doorway by a simple metal pole.

Besides her sidearm, she had no real possessions to put away, so she decided to lie down in the bottom bunk. Having nothing else to do for the day, she decided to surf the extranet for something to read.

* * *

The Andras was a big ship, boasting a crew of nearly three hundred plus garrison. It was the garrison that he hoped to eventually join. Like most quarians, Nolta could be referred to as a jack of all trades, though to a lesser extent than the majority of his brethren. However, his true talent lay in combat. While he was unable to surpass more than a handful of the Ichtome's crew in any given task, it was the one respect in which none of them even came close. Even when pitted against multiple opponents in various combat aptitude evaluations, he had not only come out on top, he often did so without taking any hits.

Nolta walked into the mess hall where he was met by even more welcoming glances. As he approached the food counter, he couldn't help but wonder how many aboard the vessel knew about his gift or his combat ability. _While social protocols dictated a certain air of special cordiality to new crewmembers, he couldn't help but wonder if their seemingly overenthusiastic expressions were the result of news of his abilities leaking aboard. Perhaps that was why Captain Tenga had been so eager to have him aboard._

The quarian momentarily pushed these thoughts from his mind as he grabbed a favored nutrient paste tube from the rack and turned back towards his room. _What about his bunkmate?_ With a shrug of his shoulders, he grabbed another tube from the rack and made his way back to the crew deck.

_Rikka'Nall vas Andras… Where had he heard that name before? Rikka wasn't a terribly uncommon name in the fleet, but that wasn't it. Nall… Nall… His father had worked with Siiro'Naleas vas Yalta on a diplomatic issue, but that was the closest name he could think of to his new bunkmate. Still, in the back of his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd heard that name somewhere._

Nolta made his way to the cubicle and knocked on the wall next to the cloth door. Rikka emerged from behind the curtain a moment later. She looked at him for a few seconds before stepping to the side. Lae entered the room and offered her one of the tubes of nutrient paste. He noted her arched eyebrow by the shape of her eyes behind her mask and proceeded to answer the unspoken question.

"I dedn't know ef you'd be hungry so I grabbed a second 'un. Ef y' don' want et, I can take et back te th' mess…"

She shook her head dismissively and accepted the container. "Thanks."

Nolta walked over to the corner table and opened one of the folding chairs from the wall. The seat was little more than a small board with a diminutive backrest, which, when compared to Nolta's much-larger-than-usual frame, resulted in a rather humorous spectacle. Rikka was barely able to stifle a chuckle as he took his seat.

The young woman waited a moment after Nolta had begun his meal to pull out a small UV decon unit and run it across the top of her food tube. Once the item had been sanitized, she methodically inserted the tube into the specialized receptacle on the bottom of her helmet and took a long pull of the creamy mix. Sharp cinnamon flavor spread across her tongue and she closed her eyes in satisfaction. _How long had it been since she'd had an actual puree?_

Nolta turned to her after swallowing a mouthful of his meal. "So, what was yer pelgremage geft?"

Rikka started and very nearly hit the top of her head on the bunk above her. "Oh- uh, sorry, I… A ship. How 'bout you?"

"Coupl'a metrec tons 'o eezo." He shrugged and took a small pull of nutrient paste. "What kind 'o shep?"

"Nothing much, just a transport. Hundred odd meters."

He roommate nodded. "Tha's a respectable size. Certainly a lot more enteresteng than a bunch o' eezo."

"I guess."

Neither said anything else after that. Once both of them had finished their meals, Nolta took the tubes back to the mess hall to be cleaned and refilled.

* * *

Standard protocol for pilgrims was that they get eight days to rest after returning before they had to seek out an assignment on a new ship. If a captain's ship was understaffed, the options open to a new crewmember tended to be quite varied. Military ships tended towards the opposite end of the spectrum, often having too many workers in proportion to their respective workload.

While military captains often ran their ships with greater discipline, it was fairly rare that a quarian military vessel would actually have to engage a hostile force. Quite often, the sheer size of the fleet was enough to intimidate any malicious craft. Despite the lack of action, combat vessels usually received first pick of new crops produced on the liveships.

This favoritism extended to components and resources as well, after the oldest and largest ships received their replacement parts, military craft and scout ships were next to pick from the new lots. It was this preferential treatment that tended to encourage returning pilgrims to join such vessels. The Andras was unique among most combat vessels in the fleet in that it tended to have a slight bit of extra space in terms of population.

Nolta woke up the next morning wondering if he had, on a subconscious level, chosen the Andras for that very reason. It only took a moment of genuflection to dismiss that notion. _He'd chosen the Andras long before going on his Va'seras*, too long ago to have known if it's population density would change._ He shifted his attention to the ship itself. _The dull tan walls of the bunk room were decidedly bland, but that was to be expected._ The ceiling above the room was covered in pipes and mesh nets. Multitudes of crates and coils of tubing rested in these slings, only a few feet above the walls of the cubicles.

Nolta was soon wandering the ship, absentmindedly taking in the layout and uniformly boring bulkheads. For the most part, the crew seemed busy, occupied with whatever tasks their daily assignments mandated. A few offered him casual waves as he passed by. After a few more minutes of walking, the quarian found himself on the military deck of the ship, not thirty feet from the sparring ring. He watched with intense focus as two young men about his age fought, dodging, punching, weaving, kicking and blocking with somewhat awkward and unrefined movements.

The sparring master noticed the new spectator and called for the match to stop. "So, you're one of the new crewmembers?"

Nolta offered a dip of the head. "Aye. Nolta'Lae nar- Vas Andras nar Ichtome."

The trainer let a smile creep across his face and extended his hand. "Pen'Sul vas Andras, Sparring master and combat trainer." Genro had told him to evaluate the young man in the ring, but hadn't given any specifics as to the time.

"How'd you like to give it a go?"

Lae shrugged. "I don't see why not." _Now he would have a chance to test his biotics without any life-threatening repercussions._ The young man closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Unnoticed by Pen, a soft blue glow began to illuminate Nolta's right hand.

*Pilgrimage

* * *

Author's Note: **Rikka and Nolta were originally supposed to meet in an entirely different fashion. Nolta was going to be assigned to a mission to rescue a stranded scout team (that much may yet stay the same, not sure.) of which Rikka had been a part. As it happened, the story just kind of… decided to go another direction. All for the best though. It will allow for some more believable interactions later on.**


	16. vas Andras

**Chapter 16: vas Andras**

* * *

Nolta stepped into the ring neither confident nor nervous, but curious. What little he knew about his abilities seemed to suggest that they amplified force, but that was what he was about to find out.

The young man's opponent offered his hand, and the two combatants shook as a gesture of camaraderie before taking their stances. Like all quarians, Nolta had received basic training in hand-to-hand combat before leaving on his pilgrimage. His opponent was Mizna'Aaln, a full fledged marine with more than a few years of CQC training under his belt.

Pen gave the starting signal and Nolta launched into an explosive leap at his opponent. Mizna dodged to the side just before the youth's attack would have impacted. Aaln brought his hand around in a counter attack, expecting Nolta to be up and on his feet, but the young man had other ideas. As soon as he'd reached the apex of his leap, he twisted his body to face his opponent, reaching out with his left arm as he did so. It was a risky, highly unorthodox move, but it paid off.

Mizna felt a grip on his wrist and nearly lost his balance as Nolta pulled him forward. The marine felt a thunderous blow land on his back as Nolta's elbow came down in a brutal swing. The marine found himself toppling forward even as his opponent's curved calf swung into his solar plexus. A moment later, Nolta's opponent collapsed to the deck, completely unconscious.

* * *

Pen'Sul vas Andras stood motionless. _The young man had downed Mizna in under ten seconds, something that had never been done before. Sure, the man had been beaten before, sometimes even knocked out, but the standing record was two and a half minutes; and even those that had won against him had taken a fairly significant beating._ Sul managed to shake the stupor from his head long enough to call the captain- and a medical team.

"You beat… How… ?"

Nolta turned towards him, hanging his head. "I'm sorry ser. I went starseyde. I dedn't thenk et'd be that powerful…"

Pen just stared at him dumbly. "That… wait… What would be that powerful?"

Nolta looked down at his hands, holding them palm up as though they were covered in blood. Lambent sapphire light lit the tips of his fingers. "My… Biotics. I, hadn't tried them out en a controlled environment before…"

"Wait, you're a- Does the Captain know about this? !"

"Aye, I'm fairly certain he does…" Lae let his arms fall to his sides.

"Your certainties aren't misplaced." Captain Tenga stood in the doorway opposite the sparring ring. "Thank you, Sergeant, you are dismissed."

Pen thumped his chest with one fist, the quarian equivalent of a salute, and then left the room.

"So," The Captain returned his attentions to his new crewmember. "It seems you at least have a basic understanding of how to use them after all."

* * *

"Mizna will recover, though his pride is somewhat more damaged than his body." Captain Tenga stood, his back to the young man who had been instructed to sit at the head of the briefing room's table. "Your actions in the sparring ring were irresponsible, if impressive." The Captain turned to face his crewmember.

Nolta didn't make eye contact. "Aye Ser, et was stupid of me. T' be honest, I don't even fully know what I ded. The physical actions, yes, but the other…"

"The biotics,' Genro supplied. "It's understandable that you don't know how to control them yet. From what your father told me, you must have learned about them on your Va'Seras."

The young man nodded.

"Well, you still have a rest day before you take an assignment on this ship, but I think that little display on the combat deck would incur a penalty of some sort. I am cutting your rest period by eight hours."

"I understand, Ser."

"I run this ship tight, son. I look out for my people, but that means I discipline them as well. Your, 'offense' wasn't terribly serious, I've had soldiers get overzealous in the ring before." He paused. "That will be all. Dismissed."

Nolta offered a salute as he stood. "Ser."

Just before the youth mad it to the door, Captain Tenga called after him. "Nolta-"

The young man stopped and turned to face the officer.

"The choice _is_ yours, but given your reputed- and observed- combat aptitude, I would be very glad if you selected a position in the marines. We can always use another soldier- so long as you check yourself."

Nolta nodded. "Aye, Ser, I'll gev et strong consideration."

"That's all I'm asking."

* * *

Rikka woke up a few minutes after Nolta had left to explore the ship. She didn't immediately get out of the bunk; _sleeping in would be a luxury she would only get on rare occasions after she'd taken an assignment._ After allowing herself a minutes to doze, the young woman began her own explorations of the ship, noting that little maintenance issues that would normally have gone unattended for days were nowhere to be found.

_Aboard the Tugara, the maintenance crews had to work around the clock to keep the ship running at a semblance of smoothness. It was rare to walk through a hall and not see a panel removed or a bundle of wires hanging from the ceiling, usually with a mechanic or tech fumbling through the systems. The Andras, however, was a far younger ship, and that translated to fewer issues in terms of maintenance, which in turn translated to an overall semblance of stability._

The quarian made her way to the mess hall, figuring that much of the crew would migrate there during their break. The long, straight corridors leading to the chamber were a slightly dimming white, adorned with large black glyphs in quarian script. Rikka stopped at one of the symbols and lovingly traced the edges with one finger, recalling the glyph used to represent her own name. She loved the symbols, their shapes, their lines, their edges.

"Hey, smudge my artwork and I'll see to it that the captain throws you in the stockade for a week!" A gruff voice called.

Rikka snapped from her reverie and looked down the hall to see a female quarian approaching. The woman's environment suit had a yellow cowl and several symbols and characters painted onto the fabric.

"Ma'am?"

"Vuyoc'Millu vas Andras, ship's painter. I don't appreciate people screwing up my work." The elder looked Rikka up and down. "You're new here aren'tcha?"

Nall offered a conciliatory nod. "Yes Ma'am. I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- your work is so beautiful…"

"Hm. At least someone appreciates it. All the soldiers here give me nothing but guff. Been here longer'n most of 'em too." Vuyoc tilted her head to the side. "Y' know our young ladies, like you- all work'sa art too. Don't you let any o' them riis-headed boys tell you anyways else."

"Ma'am?"

"They treat you with respect or they don't get to talk to ya. That simple. Captain doesn't put up with that kinda nonsense, neither should we. You just remember that." With those words, Millu continued on her way, having imparted her wisdom to the youth.

* * *

Nolta returned to his bunk with plenty to consider. _He had weighed his skill sets several times both before his pilgrimage and during it. He'd sparred against marines during his combat aptitude tests, but those were before he'd known about his biotics. That his gift could be useful in battle was now blatantly obvious, though he still wasn't sure if all it could do was amplify the force of a blow or perform anything other than mild telekinetic feats._

After a few minutes' contemplation, the youth decided to see what kind of data could be found on the extranet. Several keystrokes later, he had a search string displaying on a large orange screen projected on the wall via his omni-tool. He opened one of the links titled "What are Biotics?" Much of the information in the article consisted of material he was already familiar with, things like what biotics were, how people became biotics, nutritional needs, etc. he scrolled down to a wide range of detailed statistics.

A few more minutes' browsing led him to a page titled "Biotics: Applications and facts". _Payload!_ Nolta grinned and opened the link.

"_Biotics are largely misunderstood among civilians. Many who are blessed with these abilities are shunned because people mistakenly believe them capable of mind reading, or of possessing psychic powers. In truth, these persons are simply gifted with a high concentration of element zero in their nervous systems, allowing them to use bio-electricity to generate their own mass altering fields._

_Most biotics require years of training to master their abilities, but some individuals have been able to develop their talents in as little as a few months or, in extremely rare cases, several weeks. Due to the relative scarcity of biotics, most species' governments offer large incentives to biotic individuals for joining military service, but such powers can (in some cases) extend beyond combat applications, most notably in the medical field-"_

Nolta frowned. _Medicine was one of his worst skills. He'd tested in the lowest thirty percent of his age group._ he shrugged and resumed reading, skipping through various articles until he found one that detailed exactly what people with his abilities were capable of. _Rapidly shifting mass effect fields could tear things apart on a molecular level in a skill known commonly as a 'warp', lift and throw fields could be used to send objects careening over great distances…_

He was beginning to understand why a quarian biotic would be so significant in terms of military engagements. _A lone adept could indeed handle a small squad of geth…_ The final section of the article made his heart rate skyrocket.

_It has been demonstrated that particularly powerful biotics can create points of such incredible mass as to actually form measurable gravity wells. These 'singularities' behave in much the same way as a black hole on a significantly reduced scale, influencing everything within a considerable radius. Objects near the event horizon are quickly destroyed, while anything nearby is pulled towards its center. Creating such fields is an incredible strain on the body and mind, and even the strongest specialists can rarely sustain one for over a half minute._

Lae felt a surge of energy. _That kind of power could in theory cause damage to a starship. He could not in good conscience refuse to at least develop his abilities. Such talents might put them on the home world again. Tomorrow, he would inform the captain, Nolta'Lae vas Andras nar Ichtome would join the Migrant Fleet Marines._

* * *

Author's note:

**Okay so I did a bit of Googling (is that even a word?) and found out that the name "Nolta" not only exists, but is apparently quite common, (although I have no idea where…) Rikka is apparently the name of a sacred Japanese flower or something… o.O I think it's supposed to symbolize beauty in nature. Genro seems to be a Japanese hierarchy of some type. (Amazing how so many Japanese/Quarian words seem/sound similar)Tokus… I'd rather not go into (It seems half or more of the names I come up with off the top of my head actually exist somewhere.)**


	17. Migrant Fleet Marine

**Chapter 17: Migrant Fleet Marine**

* * *

_Even aboard military vessels, quarian captains received identical treatment to their crew as concerned living arrangements._ Nolta rapped four times on the hard surface of the captain's cubicle wall. After a few seconds without a response, Nolta tried again. Again, he was rewarded only by silence.

"Captain?" _Nothing._

A new voice entered the scene. "Captain Tenga's on the bridge, need something?" The other quarian was a full head shorter than Nolta but lacking none of his confidence. He wore a tan environment suit with a gold and black officers' cowl over his helmet. "Muta'Jahg vas Andras, Field Marshall."

Nolta blinked. "Field Marshall, Ser? Beggen' yer pardon but what're y' doin' 'board a destroyer?"

Muta offered a chuckle. "I'm in charge of the garrison here. Keep the men sharp; organize rotations, schedules, that sort of thing. Not the usual tasks for someone of my rank, but I'm content."

Nolta nodded to signify that he understood. "Any idea when th' Captain'll be available?"

"No. Sorry." Jahg shook his head and started past the young man. "Oh, Nolta-" He stopped halfway down the hall, his body partially turned to face him. "-come see me on the combat deck some time soon. I'd like to discuss a few things with you."

Nolta arched his brow. _He hadn't given his name, but then, this _was_ a quarian ship, news and names both spread like fire here._

* * *

It took nearly an hour of waiting before Captain Tenga left the bridge. When he did, he was flanked by a pair of quarians with whom Nolta was unfamiliar. At the sight of the youth, the Captain motioned his companions to continue on without him.

"Nolta." The officer nodded and waved for the young man to follow. "I take it you wanted to see me?"

"Aye Ser. I've geven et a lot o' thought, and I'd like t' join the service, as a marine. I thenk I can de a lot o' good."

Tenga smiled. "Glad to hear it. Have you given any thought as to how or when you want to start training your biotics?"

Nolta stopped. "Aren't those details decided by my trainers?"

"To a point. You get to pick who teaches you to use your skills…"

Lae stared at the captain, uncertain. "So… well I get a lest, or do I gev y' a name?"

Genro smiled. "Did you have someone in mind?"

* * *

"This is Captain Tenga. In four days we will be admitting the first non-quarian to step aboard our ship since its construction. She will be wearing a full environment suit at all times, so there will be no danger of contamination." The PA was quiet for a little before the officer resumed. "The admiralty board has given us special permission to admit this guest and I expect you all to show her the same respect that you show me. That will be all."

Rikka looked up from her omni-tool and voiced a query aloud. "Any idea who it is?"

"Nae," Nolta's single word response came out more terse than he'd intended, but Rikka didn't seem to mind. _From what little he'd observed, she was a bit more reserved than the average quarian, choosing to do most of her talking when she was buried in an extranet article or fumbling with her omni tool._ It had taken less than a day for each of them to explore the ship, and a fair amount of their time was now being spent in the diminutive cubicle simply resting up before they took their assignments.

The young biotic allowed himself a few minute's contemplation before directing his own question towards his bunkie. "I know we've only known each other fer three days, but I want t' thank y'."

Rikka leaned out from the bottom bunk and arched an eyebrow, genuinely confused. "What?"

"Y' haven't treated me defferent, strange. Haven't looked at m' funny er anetheng."

"Why… what?"

Nolta leaned over his bunk and realized she was staring back at him. "Well I- Wait, y' dedn't… know?"

"Know what?" She motioned to indicate that she was very much in the dark as to his topic.

"My- biotics."

Rikka nearly slammed her facemask against the bedpost then and there. _That was why everyone seemed so nervous around him. She'd kept her own anxiety hidden subconsciously, an effort facilitated by the respectful manner of her bunkmate._

"You're a… wow… I didn't know… Wow." Rikka mulled over the revelation in the awkward silence that had fallen. _The only knowledge she'd possessed as concerned that particular field of abilities had come from her pre-pilgrimage briefings: all asari were biotics, they weren't particularly effective against shields, just the bare bones basics._ "So, what can you do with them?" She finally managed. Despite her best efforts, Nolta picked up the uneasiness in her voice.

He frowned. _Same song different notes. Still, Kala and Tokus had treated him normally, and they weren't even the same species. Rikka had only known him a few days, it would be unfair of him to assume the worst now, after all as they said, no sense scrapping a working ship._ "I don' really know. I only figured out how I was defferent on m' pelgremege. S' far I've only been able t' push stuff." He paused for a moment. "Well, tha's not entirely true. I ded pull somethen te."

Neither of them said anything for a moment. "You're blessed, you may not know what you can do just yet, but you're gonna pull off something impressive. Me? I'll probably just end up as another tech." Rikka's own words surprised her.

_Usually she wasn't in a position to encourage others, much less someone as big or ostensibly strong as Nolta. Maybe she'd picked up some of her guts from her Va'Seras._

* * *

Nolta followed the now familiar route to the combat deck until he had passed the mess hall, then took a turn to the left, deciding that he might as well see if the alternate route that Jahg had told him about was faster. A few minutes later, he stood on the forward half of the deck, staring at the doors to the armory.

It did take less time to get to the 'CDL' as it was colloquially known, but the training and practice facilities were an extra five or six minutes' walk from here. On the way, Nolta bumped into a few of the new recruits that would be joining him in training. Rene'Kerra, was a young man who'd arrived from his pilgrimage three months ago and taken a temporary assignment as a food prep before deciding that KP duty wasn't for him.

Qell'Jehn vas Remalat had been a marine for three years but was due for a week's worth of drills. _Her_ reputation had yet to be established aboard the Andras. Hun'Nalit had arrived a mere week ago and decided that he'd try his hand at military service.

The youngest in the group, Selva'Dei had ended up on the Andras with Qell'Jehn after a brief discussion with the Remalat's Captain. The group finally arrived at the training center where they were greeted but a ruby armored quarian Drill Sergeant by the name of Colthe'Raan vas Qwib Qwib.

Nolta thumped his chest in salute and snapped to attention. "Ser! Nolta'Lae vas Andras nar Iktome reporting for duty, Ser!"

"I know who you are, and you can drop the melodrama." Raan's voice was calm and confident, despite Nolta's towering figure. "You'll have plenty of time to learn proper posture and stance later. Follow me."

The Drill Sergeant led the group to the sparring ring and Nolta could remember the exact spot where Mizna had fallen. Colthe's voice drew his attention. "At 0600 _every_ day you _will_ report to this location for training, calisthenics _and_ inspection, _excepting_ those days where you are _expressly_ excused in advance."

Raan halted in front of the group. "All right, today, I want to see exactly what each of you can do in this ring. Nolta, you are exempted per the Captain's orders… …I hear you downed Mizna?"

The young quarian nodded an affirmative.

"All right then, you two, you're in first…"

* * *

"And you're certain you can arrange a mission?" The dark figure's voice rumbled through the quarian. _It was a familiar yet disconcerting experience. Something he would probably never get used to._

"Not yet. He just started training yesterday, he's scheduled to begin biotics training in three more days. There's no way they'll put him in circulation before he's as battle ready as they can make him. That'll be at least a year, probably two."

The other's response was delayed. "Our client is patient; I think we can be as well."

"The first attempt to bring him in failed…"

The apparition waved a hand dismissively. "Tarret was an inexpensive option; nothing was lost in his failure."

"They do know that they're likely to suffer losses?" The quarian ventured.

"They are prepared to accept a high body count on either side. Just stick with the plan. If it takes a few extra months, so be it."

"Acknowledged, I'll keep you updated."

The Shadow Broker cut the link and leaned back in his 'chair' tenting his finger s in front of him. _Getting an agent into the migrant fleet had been difficult, but not impossible. Not to say that his contact had been slacking or was unreliable. In point of fact, _The Gunner_ was an exemplary agent. Now, however, the man would manifest his true value._

* * *

Crack! The rifle spat a tongue of orange-red flame and the holographic geth down the shooting range slumped to the ground, its neck throwing off sparks where its head had once been.

"Weapons… Up!" Drill Sergeant Colthe'Raan vas Qwib Qwib barked the order and all of his pupils complied instantly. Five weapons pointed muzzle up and safeties were unanimously engaged. Nolta waited, kneeling on one leg, the other supporting his arm and by extension, his rifle.

Raan stepped behind each recruit and checked their stances.

"Selva, bring your left arm back, your rifle should be pointed _di_rectly up_ward._"

He waited for the young marine to correct her posture and checked again before moving on.

"Good, good, goo- Nolta!"

"Ser!"

"_When_ your commanding officer tells you to _move_, you _move!_ You _will_ be tasting your team's dust _if_you're sitting on that leg like that."

Nolta shifted, adjusting his position in accordance will the Drill Sergeant's veiled directive.

"Much better. Mobility on the battlefield iiis _paramount_. You _must_ be able to outmaneuver your opponent _at_ all times."

Nolta was quickly growing familiar with the instructor's verbal singsong cadence. _Yes, it was stereotypical, but it had a grounding element to it._

Raan finished checking the cadets and proceeded to the next part of the exercise.

"_Al_right, prone firing! As_sume_ stance!"

As soon as the recruits had taken positions, the holo-projectors presented a fresh batch of geth.

"Opennnn Fire!"

The shooting range lit up with dozens of slugs as the recruited sighted on individual geth, flaring and overloading the holo geth's 'shields'.

By the time the projector simulated the last geth falling, Nolta had racked up nearly twice as many kills as his compatriots. He shook his head. _And to think that he had just started formal training…_

* * *

**3 Days later**

The Andras' bridge was shaped in a semicircle with a raised horseshoe shaped walkway cutting into the center to serve as the Captain's 'overwatch'. Captain Tenga stood in the center, keeping his gaze focused on the primary view screen. A tiny blue shuttle glided into position with the destroyer's aft port docking cradle.

_Nolta had already started basic training and was showing himself remarkably proficient in both marksmanship and hand to hand._

"Sir?" The docking traffic controller turned to face the captain. "Our guest is requesting permission to board."

_Very soon, the young soldier would begin to learn the various intricacies of his own biotic talents._ "Tell her she's cleared to board, I'm on my way down there myself."

* * *

Author's note:

**Well, looks like I managed to get this chapter up three days ahead of when I thought I would. It's not unlikely that I'll expand the training introduction scene, so check back on this chapter from time to time.**


	18. Doldrums

**Chapter 18: Doldrums**

* * *

Rikka reported to her shift at the armory ten minutes early. She had taken the position as a combat tech primarily for two reasons. First, she had a natural aptitude for the work, second, the considerable amount of time she'd spent in Torr's machine shop had provided her with ample experience beyond what she'd had when setting out on her Va'Seras.

Fort the most part, her duties were to maintain the various firearms, omni-tools, kinetic field generators and other materiel used by the destroyer's garrison. Two other techs shared in the work as well. While one tech was usually sufficient to keep up with the task, it was not unusual for the workload to double or even triple for a brief period, especially if the soldiers were undergoing particularly difficult training sessions or drills. Plus, the extra labor allowed for a few extra hours off that would not normally be available to an adult quarian.

Yun'Varrel vas Andras looked up to see his new assistant walk in carrying a half-disassembled assault rifle.

"I've been working on it in my spare time," She offered by way of explanation. "I still can't figure out what's wrong with it."

"Allow me." Yun took the weapon in his hands and gently turned it over a few times, occasionally running his fingers across exposed mechanisms or weights. "Check the shaver?"

"First thing I looked at once I had the thing apart. It doesn't make any sense, I've tried swapping out the heat sink too, but then the firing rings freeze."

"Just set it on the table for now, we'll get to it later."

Rikka nodded and did as the senior tech had instructed. _Torr would have melted the thing down for scrap by now, but the weapon was a high end sniper rifle that had significant sentimental value to the Captain. That in itself was enough to spur Rikka to decide to work on it back in the domicile later that day._

* * *

A small, pale blue shuttle drifted into dock with the Andras. The vessel bore a single inhabitant, not well known galaxy-wide, but a hardened veteran and well respected among her peers. Malea T'komé waited for the sound of docking clamps engaging along the top and bottom of her diminutive transport and then keyed the final leg of the auto dock sequence to prep the airlock.

Once at the airlock, she secured the helmet of her special-made environment suit and ran the airlock decon program. She could almost taste the sterile, crisp air as thin white lines traced across the surface of her outfit, systematically destroying any bacteria, viruses, fungi, or other potentially 'unpleasant' organisms. Moments later, she received the all clear signal from the destroyer, and pressed the key to open the outer door.

The Andras' bay doors parted a moment later, revealing a smallish chamber filled with crates, canvas mesh, and quarian marines. Malea entered the docking bay, remembering the first time she'd set foot on a quarian vessel, over two centuries ago. The ex-commando shifted her gaze up to Captain Tenga at the back of the room. The officer gave her a nod and the soldiers in the bay cleared out, satisfied that they wouldn't be needed.

"Welcome aboard the Andras. Please, this way." The Captain motioned for her to follow and made his way towards the bulkhead. Malea followed the quarian through the various corridors and up multiple ladders to reach the combat deck. Within a few minutes, they could hear Drill Sergeant Raan's gruff voice barking orders over the sounds of gunfire at the shooting range.

"I assume he's been briefed?" The asari delivered the question without turning her head as the firing range came into view.

"He asked for an asari, preferably one who had trained other biotics."

T'komé nodded. "Smart kid. Did you tell him I've trained some of _your_ people prior to him?"

"I believe that was the deciding factor. Plus it was easy to get you clearance-" Genro paused. "Well, relatively speaking."

The former commando nodded and remained silent, watching as the various cadets took their turns drilling holographic geth with training rifles. One of the students in particular caught her eye.

"That's him, isn't it?" She pointed to the tallest of the group.

Genro nodded.

"Still hasn't gotten his adult suit yet?"

"Not until his training is over. We custom tailor every environment suit to fit the wearer. Part of that means adjusting or modifying it to accommodate the individual's profession. In Nolta's case, we'll have to account for his biotics, particularly the type of effects they'll have on the material."

Malea only offered a small grunt in acknowledgement. She watched with a seemingly detached interest as her soon-to-be pupil methodically loosed a series of bursts at the oncoming holo-geth, dropping each one in close succession.

_His shots were dead on, not something she would have expected from a youth just back from his pilgrimage._ the asari mad no comment for several minutes as the other cadets took their turns. Only two of them displayed similar proficiency, one of which was unquestionably a full-fledged marine already. "I'll talk with him soon, but I'm fairly tired. It's a long way from Thessia."

Tenga nodded. "Of course. I'll show you to his quarters."

* * *

Rikka was struggling with a stubborn firing mechanism from one of the marines' rifles when the captain arrived, accompanied by a shapely asari dressed in a strange looking environment suit. The outfit was brown with black straps across the areas where a normal environment suit's section seals would be.

"Miss Nall, this is Malea T'komé. She's going to be Nolta's biotic trainer for the next few months or so."

Rikka offered a sheepish wave. "Hello…" A pause, "Um, do you need me to move to different living quarters?"

The Captain shook his head, much to Rikka's relief. "No, we have a special area set aside for her; she just needed to know where to be able to find him."

Nall nodded in understanding.

"'Scuse me." Nolta's brogue interrupted the awkward silence. "I take et you're Mess T'komé?"

The asari turned to face the young biotic. "Yes. And you're Nolta."

Lae offered a nod in the affirmative. "Aye." He leaned to get a look at the inside of his domicile. "Well y' be stayin' here?"

"We've arranged for a personal unit for Miss T'komé, Nolta. You and Rikka will continue to share this bunk." Captain Tenga intoned.

Malea's body language signaled fatigue. "I look forward to seeing your progress, Mr. Lae. Now, if everything had been attended to, I would like to be shown to my quarters. I've had a long journey."

"Of course. This way please."

* * *

Roha'Lae stepped aboard the Andras for the first time since his poorly received welcome of his son. Nolta had sent specifically for him, whether to apologize or continue grilling him, Roha could not be sure. He was positive about one thing;_he was going to have to be honest with his son this time around. Anything less would simply ignite the boy's ire._

The former marine worked his way through the various decks and finally got to his son's quarters. Three sharp raps on the siding of the young man's cubicle produced a familiar "Come en."

Roha entered the diminutive domicile. Other than the usual double bunk and corner table, the room only contained a rifle, some spare parts and Nolta.

"So, did you call me here to finish the job?" The elder quarian quipped, half serious.

"Father," Nolta swung out of the top bunk and stood in front of Roha. "I- I'm sorry I blew a coupla section seals atcha back when y' ferst came t' veset me here." The youth hung his head. "Y' know better'n anyone I've got a violent temper'n a long fuse, but, well, et's not acceptable behavior t' go bitin' off yer dad's head. I'm sorry."

Roha nodded. "I understand son, I forgive you." He embraced his son. "I'm sorry too. I should have been forthright with you about your mother, why she died." The elder quarian released his embrace and stood back.

"Thank you, I forgev y' te. I understand why y' told me what y' ded about mother. I don't like et, but I understand." Nolta offered a small shrug.

"Tael was-"

Rikka peeked into the room and tried, unsuccessfully, to reach the rifle parts resting on the corner table. "Sorry to interrupt, could you hand me those?" She pointed to the components resting on the tan surface.

Nolta gathered up the various parts and handed them over to Rikka, who offered a nod and a quick "Thank you" before ducking back out of the cubicle.

Nolta turned back to face his father, almost immediately picking up on the bemused expression in the man's eyes. "What?"

Roha's smirk grew. "You've been on your crewship what, eleven days now, and you've already got a girl storing stuff in here as an excuse to talk to ya?" He chuckled. "Seems you take after your old man after all."

Nolta shook his head. "She bunks here. Rikka's training t' be a combat tech."

"But she's in your unit, right?" The smile still hadn't vanished from Roha's face.

"M' platoon, yes, but so's th' rest o' th' garrison. 'Sides, et'll be a while b'fore I start lookin' fer a gerl. I need t' fenesh m' biotech trainen ferst."

"Speaking of…" A new, feminine voice entered the conversation.

"Busy day…" Roha murmured as he noted the asari in the doorway.

"Your first session starts in fifteen minutes on the combat deck, sparring ring." Malea stated. "Whatever you're doing, you need to wrap it up."

* * *

Nolta said good bye to his father a few minutes later and proceeded to the sparring ring. Malea stood ready with a small briefcase filled with various instruments. After affixing a specialized omni-tool to her wrist she motioned for him to enter the ring, and directed him to stand with his arms out at his sides. T'komé started scanning along the young man's skull, back arms and legs. After two minutes, she had a useable map of Nolta's nervous system and adjoining tissues.

The asari pressed a key on her omni-tool and the ring's holo projector produced a full size representation of the young man's brain, spinal column and immediate periphery nerves, complete with element zero nodules.

"Tha's… …me?" _He'd understood, intellectually, that there were deposits of the metal in his body, but only now did it truly sink in._

"Amazing, isn't it?" Malea stood, arms crossed, grinning at the young man's sense of wonder. "This scan will help me to calibrate your first amp and will help you to focus on the right parts of your body to generate the strongest mass effect fields. You'd be surprised what having a mental image of what your deposits look like can do for your overall capacity."

Nolta continued to examine the image even as he spoke. "What exactly es an 'amp'?"

Malea closed her eyes and dipped her head in understanding. "Ah, you wouldn't know about amps would you? No, I guess not. Biotic amps, excuse me, amplifiers, coordinate your bio-electrical impulses to improve your overall field strength. Makes the task of generating mass altering fields less of a strain on your nerves as well."

T'komé turned to the case she'd brought and produced a stout metal rod, which she proceeded to set on the floor. Three keystrokes on her omni-tool caused the device to emit a faint blue glow for a few seconds. "Go ahead, try to pick it up."

Nolta reached down and curled his hands around the small gray object, only to find that it was prohibitively heavy. Malea held up her hand to indicate that he should stop.

"I'd have been shocked if you'd been able to lift that. There's a mass effect generator in that piece of metal that I used to exponentially increase its weight. For now, we'll just try to counter that effect." The asari extended her hand and Nolta did likewise. "Focus on the rod, then picture the element zero along your spine. Think about the rod as though it were full of holes, lighter than air, whatever works."

Nolta did as he was told, and his trainer was mildly startled to witness a blue aura already forming across his forearm. _All her years of experience told her that he shouldn't have been able to produce a visible field already, let alone without any formal training, or, for that matter, an amp._

"I felt… somethen… …what'd I de?"

Malea looked down at the metal rod, seemingly unaffected, but something told her differently. "Try to pick it up again."

Nolta did, this time the piece actually budged slightly. The quarian stumbled back in surprise, then remained silent. For her part, T'komé waited. _This was unusual, her pupil had to have used his biotics before, but how much was the question._

"Well et always take tha' kind o' focus t' do tha' little?"

Malea looked up. "Hmm? Oh- No, no it won't." She shook her head, "Once you become more adept with your abilities, your brain will start associating various movements with different techniques. Exactly what those motions are is up to you, but once your nervous system gets used to it, you'll be able to do far more with much less effort…" Almost as an aside, she added, "The amp will help with that too…"

The asari said nothing more for several seconds.

"Ma'am."

She shook her head. "That will be all for today Nolta. Go rest."

The youth shrugged and made his way back to his quarters. Malea scanned the metal rod she'd extracted from her carry case. _Nearly 15 kilograms lighter than what she'd set it to. The quarian admiralty board would have an insanely powerful biotic in their arsenal before long._

* * *

Author's Notes:

**Writing technical details about subjects in which I am not particularly knowledgeable (for instance, programming / circuitry / technology / use of/training biotics) is actually far easier than most would probably assume. The trick to it is not to get into the meticulous details of protocols or schematics, but to work with the basics of what I do know. Far too many shows/books/etc. (take Star Trek for instance) try to get into little details that they are not able to explain and suffer badly as a result. In trying to make the Captain/crew sound technical as though each and every one of them were thoroughly versed in the topic, the writers often come across as garbled and jargon spewing, cheesy or just plain moronic. (Sorry to put it that way, but it's the truth) They stray so far from plausible explanation that I have largely grown to hate the shows (Well that and the fact that seemingly 89.352% of the episodes revolve around parallel universes/time travel which = recipe for failure.) (though they do tend to have excellent character development. **

**Also, when possible, research helps, (for instance, 'pigging' is an actual practice in oil drilling companies).**


	19. Under the Knife

**Chapter 19: Under the Knife**

* * *

A sphere of dark energy roiled and twisted its way into the asari's biotic barrier, tearing into the defense with a warbling echo. Malea felt the impact as the attack coiled across the surface of the shield, trying vainly to pierce it.

The asari held up her hand and her pupil dropped into an 'at ease' stance. "That was stronger, but it's still not focused. Think of it as an anti-armor round. A warp attack needs to pierce the target, _then_ shear it."

The ex-commando took her stance again and Nolta concentrated for a few moments before unleashing another dark energy assault. The result was much the same, an inexperienced trainee like himself had no real chance of causing any harm to an experienced adept like herself. Nolta's head hung slightly, a nearly imperceptible gesture, but one that Malea picked up right away.

"You can't feel it yet, can you?"

The youth cocked his head to the side. "Feel what?"

"You'll know. It's something you'll get with experience. Now, again, but this time, try pointing at your target when you release the attack." She offered a brief example, swinging her arm overhand with her fingers tightly together in a mock blade. Nolta twitched as her whole body was wreathed in the characteristic blue flame that accompanied a biotic attack.

T'komé returned to her ready stance and nodded. Nolta offered a small huff and took a fighting stance, then swung his arm forward in a knifing motion. In the space of an instant, tiny tendrils of blue light snaked across his outstretched arm joining and twisting together, finally coalescing at the end before launching forward. By now, the sound of the impact was quite familiar and Nolta glowered at the seeming lack of progress from his previous attempts, though this particular run had felt more… natural.

T'kome nodded. "Very good. That seemed a little less forced, didn't it? Like you didn't have to focus quite as hard?"

Her pupil squinted. _Using biotics at this early stage was both mentally and physically exhausting, though less so than when he'd first started. Malea had claimed that she could sense his focus improving, that she was able to detect minor differences in the way his attacks hit her defenses. It wasn't _just_ a mental game, there was more to it._

Almost in answer to his suspicions, the asari spoke again. "Like I've told you before, once you're familiar with your abilities, start to get good with them, your brain will naturally associate them with certain motions. You'll hit a point where you shouldn't even have to think about it, you'll just swing your arm forward and you'll create the necessary mass effect field."

Almost as an aside, she added. "That will be all for today, go and get rested up. You'll need a lot of energy tomorrow."

The young quarian nodded, stripped a small monitoring OSD from his omni-tool and handed it over to his trainer. Malea accepted it and transferred the young man's readouts to her own omni tool as he left. The disk contained data on his pulse, core temperature and various other vital signs, all of which needed to be monitored during the training sessions. She'd go over them in the next few minutes. In the mean time, she had to file her weekly report to the admiralty board on her pupil's progress.

* * *

Two weeks later, aboard medical ship Drinalu

The Drinalu was one of the older ships in the flotilla. At 247 years old, it was also the oldest medical ship in the fleet. This was the location that Malea had selected for Nolta's implantation surgery. The asari herself would not be performing the procedure, but would be overseeing it in a separate room.

Nolta sat next to his bunk mate in pre-op, turning a small device over in his hands. It was thin, flat, and, like the vastness of space, a pure fathomless black. Small notches were present at regular intervals all along the sides and back of the object, designed to fit with the universal wrist-mounts on all quarian environment suits. The biotic amp was roughly the same size and shape as an omni-tool when its holographic interface was activated, but instead of a dim orange, the device displayed in a vibrant aquamarine.

"You know you don't have to do this?" Rikka prompted.

The quarian offered only a solemn nod, _Without specialized implants, the device in his hands was about as useful as a gun without a power cell. It had enormous potential, but couldn't harness it. In order for the device to be fully functional, he would have to endure a surgical procedure that averaged nearly twelve hours, something that was especially risky for a quarian, even in clean-room environments._

"Captain Tenga has made it abundantly clear that this is your decision…"

" I need t' do et. I made a promise t' m'self. Ef I don' do thes, I can't reach m' full potential."

"You won't have any potential to reach if you die. No one is forcing you into that room."

Nolta smirked. "Mess Nall, ef I dedn' know any better, I'd say y' were concerned 'bout me…"

"I'm your Bunkie. I know we probably haven't talked as much as most quarians who share quarters, but still…"

The light above the door to the prep room blinked on and a crisp, formal voice barked over the comm. "Nolta'Lae vas Andras, the prep room is ready, please enter and de-suit."

He swallowed, only now realizing just how dry his throat was. _This was it. He could turn back now, and be a slightly more than average soldier, or he could enter that chamber and face the very real possibility of dying on the operating table._

_No, turning back now would disgrace everything he stood for, everyone who had helped him on his pilgrimage, if he died during the procedure, at least he would have done so selflessly._

With a final nod, Nolta rose, gave Rikka and uncertain stare, and made his way into the prep-room. Pure white coated every wall and the table in the center bore a data-pad with instructions and a specialized suit for him to wear into the operating room. The young biotic began to decouple his sections seals with a cold pit in his stomach. _Whatever happened now, it was too late to turn back._

* * *

Rikka sat in the waiting area just outside of the operating room. _She wasn't exactly attracted to her bunk mate, at least, she didn't think so, but the two of them_ had _shared quarters for the better part of four months. Truth be told, she wasn't entirely sure what she felt about him. Yes he was probably the most 'built' quarian male aboard the Andras within her age range, but he was also a biotic, and, while not conceited about it, he did seem somewhat distant. Then again, she wasn't the best at reading people._

The young woman looked down at the omni-tool on her wrist. _Much like the one she'd had in Torr's chop-shop, it was an old piece of equipment, one that had seen more than its fair share of use. What about the tech that Nolta was receiving? Would all of that be antiquated equipment as well? Unlikely,_ She decided. _Such a rare gift as a biotic would not be spared any expense._

* * *

Malea watched as the surgeons began their eighth hour of work on the young man lying facedown on the table. The suit he'd been given for the surgery covered his front, legs, arms, and face, leaving his back, and the back of his skull exposed. The neural implants were complete and the young man's skull had been re-sealed with a special bonding compound. Several implants had already been installed in his upper back and shoulders, the framework for the focusing field that would be generated by the amp's external unit.

As the fourth rotation of specialists entered the room, work commenced on the spinal column. T'komé saw a group of specialized clamps sealed into place along the vertebrae and breathed a sigh of relief, _the most dangerous part of the surgery was complete._

* * *

"How are you feeling?" The asari's voice trickled into his consciousness like a rivulet of cold water.

Nolta offered only a grunt, but the response was enough to set his nerves on fire. Stars flooded his vision and energy crackled through his muscles. The quarian screamed as pain wracked every corner of his tissues. He tried to move, but his muscles refused to comply. He screamed again and Rikka flinched.

Malea closed her eyes. _She'd seen this before, Once. The first and only other quarian biotic she'd trained had experienced similar agony after his implantation surgery as well._

"Wh-" Nolta tried to speak through the fire that licked along his nerves, but the scream he released swallowed any words that would have been intelligible.

"Stop. Don't try to speak." T'komé rested a hand on the table where the young biotic was strapped down. "Your nervous system was exposed to open air for the surgery, you're likely to feel significant discomfort for a while."

Silver eyes twitched behind the robin's egg blue of the surgical mask. _How long was 'a while?'_

"I don't know Nolta." Malea ground her teeth together and severed the brief mental connection she'd made with the quarian. She could still feel the corrosive sensation crawling through her nerves. "The best thing you can do right now is sleep. When you're recovered enough, you'll get your new suit."

Nolta's eyes closed and he offered a single, almost undetectable nod, sending a fresh wave of agony through his nerves. This time, though, he did not scream. He simply ground his teeth until he thought they would break.

* * *

seven days later

Nolta woke up that morning to find the pain largely subdued. Some of it was probably thanks to residual amounts of the painkiller he'd accepted to get to sleep, but he could tell it was less ferocious than before by the _way_ it hurt. Instead of a searing burn throughout his body, the sensation had subsided to an angry throb around the incisions where the implants had been inserted.

He wasn't recovered enough to get up yet, he was sure of that much, but there would be-

"Nolta, good you're awake." T'komé's voice filtered in over the speaker in the room. "Okay, listen, I know you're still hurting, but the surgeons reckon that your body has largely recovered from the majority of the surgical incisions."

_You've got to be kidding…_

"Listen to me, Nolta, the first three weeks after the implants are installed are the most important for syncing up with your amp." The quarian struggled to focus on her words. "The more you practice now, the faster your body will adjust to the cybernetics."

_Absolutely ridiculous, did she really expect him to-_

"I need you to get out of that surgical bed, Nolta. Your new environment suit is waiting for you in the airlock."

For several seconds, the quarian very strongly considered disobeying her orders. _He felt like doing nothing more than lying down. Still, if what she was saying was true…_

The quarian pried himself from the table and let out a quiet shout as his feet hit the deck of the room. _No rest for the weary._ It took several short strides to reach the door, but Nolta pressed himself to continue. As soon as the doors parted, his new environment suit caught his eye.

As he'd requested, the material for the outfit was fabricated using a rich aquamarine tone, trimmed with a deep green visor and similarly colored pauldrons. Several utility pouches adorned the suit's belt and a savage combat knife was mounted on the right pauldron.

With an almost reverential manner, the quarian detached the helmet from his surgical suit and donned his new outfit. Even the lingering pain from the operation slipped from his mind as he activated the unit and the helm's Heads Up Display flared to life.

* * *

Author's note:

**Well, Nolta will soon get the chance to test his true mettle. The next chapter is probably going to be titled "Deployment" if my outline holds up (much like Awakening, I've had quite a few chapters that weren't in the original outline) It remains to be seen how many chapters that arc will take.**

**Writing Nolta's surgery was something I originally had no intention of doing, but, I figured, I might as well see what I'm capable of…**


	20. Shäin Alon

**Chapter 20: Shäin Alon**

* * *

Nolta circled around the sparring ring, mirroring his trainer, looking for an opening. The asari kept her outward demeanor implacable, but internally she was quite excited. _The young quarian had made staggering progress in the space of two short weeks since his surgery and would soon possess enough of a handle on his biotics to use them in the field, though his marine training would be several months longer._

Without warning, the quarian loosed a warp that swirled and crackled along the surface of her biotic barrier. Malea hesitated for an instant, _his warp attacks had been far more focused, what-_ Too late, she realized the young man's ploy as a second, more focused warp pierced, then shredded the barrier. Malea tried to dodge to the side, but felt herself cast from her feet as a biotic throw punched her squarely in the ribs. Had it not been for her kinetic barrier and environment suit, the force of the blow might have cracked a few ribs.

In an instant, the quarian had her pinned to the ground and a dummy knife held to her throat. "I thenk that counts as a wen?"

The asari smirked, turned her right hand palm upward, and sent the young man into the ceiling. Nolta's subsequent fall was cushioned by a field of super high density atmosphere, courtesy of his own biotic talents. "Not quite," She stated as the quarian shook off his surprise. "Good trick, better reaction, but you let your guard down. It's not over until I explicitly tell you so. You should already know, the enemy won't necessarily fight fair."

"So," He wheezed, "es et over now?"

Malea laughed, "Yes, that fight is, take five, I'm sure your back is hurting after that impact." She shifted her attention to the small carrying case she had on the wall of the ring.

"Aye." Lae sat down, arms crossed atop his knees. "Ma'am?"

"Hmmm?" T'komé turned. "You know you can call me Malea."

He shook his head. "No Ma'am. And I won't call y' 'Mess T'komé either'. Ye'r m' superior and I well respect that."

The ex-commando sighed. _It was a conversation they'd had a few times before, something attributable to his stubborn personality and her own customs. Nonetheless, it wasn't really worth arguing over._ "What did you want to ask me?"

"How long wer' y' a Commando?"

"I already told you, sixty years."

Nolta dipped his head at an angle. "Aye, but your kind are some o' th' longest leved en th' galaxy, don't y' tend t' steck weth a career path longer than that?"

"Most of us do, I simply found no joy in it. It paid well, garnered a lot of respect, but it wasn't fulfilling."

"And teaching a choj'n'dyet like m'self es?"

Malea's eyebrows raised. "I don't recall calling you that…"

"But you've thought et."

"Nolta," The asari shook her head. "I come from a race where everyone is a biotic. No matter what you've told yourself, I have only the greatest respect for you and your people." Her tone was firm, but gentle, almost motherly. "Just because you're different doesn't mean that everyone you meet is going to look down on you."

* * *

Muta'Jahg entered the debriefing room partly confident, partly determined. _If he could prove himself at this juncture, he'd be set for life, not that his current status was something that would go unenvied by most quarian soldiers…_ The other eight quarians in the room watched his entry with hints of disdain. It was no secret that the Field Marshall was a maverick, concerned firstly with his own wellbeing, then with that of the fleet and his people.

Despite this, he was an excellent Commander, not so much in terms of how he treated his men but in term of his results in the field. The last fights with the geth had come in the form of a series of skirmishes on the outermost fringes of the Perseus veil. Jahg's leadership during the ground engagements here had resulted in significant losses for the geth while suffering a mere handful of casualties on the quarian side.

Jahg took his place at the debriefing table and accepted a data pad from one of the assistants. To his right sat three of the Admiralty board: Rael'Zorah vas Rayya, Han'Gerrel vas Neema and Daro'Xen vas Moreh. Across from them and to Muta's left sat Shala'Raan vas Tonbay and Zaal'Koris vas Qwib Qwib, their peers on the board, in addition to captains Genro'Tenga vas Andras, Gria'Re vas Iktome and Hok'Neyl vas Cnera.

Each of the quarians offered the Field Marshall a silent nod, and fixed their gaze in his general direction. "Glad you could all come." He said finally. "A matter has come to my attention regarding a one Taar'Dei nar Qimbola. If you would have a look at your data pads please?"

Each of the officers in the room turned their eyes to the screens in front of them. "The young woman in question had located schematic data and refined materials necessary to replicate a gunship produced by a race predating the protheans by nearly four million years. What she was able to upload suggested the vessel in question would have the firepower to engage craft several times it size. When she contacted the fleet, Dei indicated that she wished to join the Cnera's crew, hence my request that Captain Hok join us."

Jahg paused for questions, looking around the table for any indicators that one of the assembled was not up to speed. Finding none, he resumed, "Thanks to the presence of geth forces in system, both Admirals Rael'Zorah and Daro'Xen have suggested that the recovery team sent to extract the pilgrim and her chosen gift be accompanied by a detachment of our ground troops."

"How heavy is the geth presence in system?" Admiral Gerrel's confident timbre projected from behind a black faceplate.

"We don't have any exact numbers; Taar's estimates posit their strength at two to three frigates' worth, possibly accompanied by a patrol wing of fighters, nothing terribly significant." Rael answered.

"Then why send a ground unit?"

"As a contingency. The extraction op will take a matter of days, if the unit were discovered without military support, they could easily be wiped out."

"We're getting off topic." Muta interjected. "Captain Hok has already agreed to send a detachment of Marines with the extraction party. The business of this meeting concerns a request I have made of the Andras." He motioned to Captain Tenga.

Genro glared at the Field Marshall, then addressed the rest of the room's inhabitants. "Field Marshall Jahg has requested that two of my crew accompany the military component in this venture. I am… reluctant to permit this, especially seeing as they are two of my newest additions."

Several pairs of eyebrows raised at the statement. It was quite obvious to most of the officers who at least one of the quarians in question was. Captain Re stood glaring indignantly at Muta. "He's hardly in his twenties how can you-" She caught herself and cut her words short.

"Nolta'Lae recently completed basic training and his biotics have developed enough for combat use, it'll do him good to get some field time." Jahg replied evenly. "Besides, I doubt they'll actually have an altercation with the geth."

* * *

"It's done."

"Good." The black robed figure loomed in the hologram before his servant. "This is ahead of schedule. I'll inform the client. Just make sure the coordinates are exact."

"They will be. I should note, they're sending a full platoon out with him. Our client should expect heavy losses."

"They are prepared to suffer casualties. Shadow Broker, out."

* * *

Nolta rotated the holographic dials on his bio-amp for the third time since stepping aboard the transport that would take them to the _Yaska_. The century old gunship would be transporting the platoon that was to accompany the recovery team aboard the _Heiroc_. Next to him sat Rikka, his bunkie and now squad-mate as well. To his left, a row of soldiers sat silent, many fidgeting with their rifles or sidearms.

The team's squad-leader, Sergeant Brasc'Nerril vas Yaska, stood at the front of the deck, back to the stars, watching his soldiers intently. Nolta let out a sigh. _He knew that they were unlikely to run into any geth, provided they kept a low profile, and it was this simple fact that had him question the necessity of bringing such a large force. There had to be more going on here than a simple escort mission._

"Alright folks, we're coming into dock with the Yaska, buckle out." The pilot's instruction was obeyed in short order by the sound of the seat harnesses in the cabin being declasped. Some of the soldiers made to get out of their seats, but Brasc caught their glances and shook his head, signaling them to remain seated. The transport craft jerked roughly as it came into contact with the gunship and the sound of the docking clamps engaging rang through the hull.

Brasc held a hand up to the side of his helmet listening to some silent transmission from the pilot. A moment later, the hand came down and the Sergeant's rough voice boomed through the cabin. "Alright boys and girls, on your feet, double file into the airlock, six cross at a time."

Following the Sergeant's command, Nolta fell in line behind the soldier to his left. "You think we'll have to do any actual fighting?" Rikka whispered.

Nerril caught the young woman's question. "I want silence in the ranks; you can talk 'till your faceplate falls off once we're en route."

The marines silently marched into the next room and Nolta watched as the first six of them disappeared behind the airlock doors. One more group of six entered the lock after it opened before it was Nolta's turn. The young biotic watched as the thin UV decontamination lines trailed across the room, briefly bathing each crewmember in white. He couldn't help but notice Rikka's figure as the decon light traveled across her suit.

As soon as his eyes had worked their way back up to her mask he noted that _her_ eyes were larger than usual. Rikka quickly broke the gaze and shifted uncomfortably, bringing an arm across her chest to touch her shoulder. A soft trio of beeps sounded and Nolta tasted the crisp, cold, sterile air of the gunship as the airlock doors opened.

"Welcome aboard the Yaska, Corporal." Sergeant Brasc gestured to the interior of the crew deck.

Nolta turned his head sharply only to find that he was the last in line. "I'm sorry ser, Corporal?"

"Yep" Brasc nodded. "Higher-ups figured you should get a mild taste of command on the trip."

"Et doesn't feel right, ser, I haven't done enethen' t' ern et."

"Your drill sergeant disagrees, anyways, there's a chance you'll get to prove yourself out there."

* * *

The gunship's pilot was used to leading escort missions, both for mining operations and salvage jobs. This trip was only different in that there was confirmed hostile presence in the target system. Not that that would be a problem, the Yaska was a heavily armed ship of war. "Navigation control, this is gunship Yaska requesting departure clearance and a vector."

"Copy that, Yaska." A moment later a new voice sounded over the radio. "Gunship Yaska, this is navigation control, you are cleared for departure, uploading the vector to your navcom now. Shäin Alon.*"

"Copy navigation control, Keelah Se'lai."

A few minutes' drifting along the provided course brought the vessel alongside the Heiroc and both ships jumped to the system's nearest mass relay. Even with the internal compensators, everyone aboard the two craft felt the near instantaneous acceleration and subsequent dissipation as they arrived in system.

*Good Hunting

* * *

Author's Note:

**I hope to incorporate more quarian phrases in the next several chapters, the hope being a more authentic presentation of the way the characters talk. On a side note, it took me this long to get the chapter up because I've been sick. At least it's finally reached the first part of the story that I've been looking forward to.**


	21. Landfall

**Chapter 21: Landfall**

* * *

The Heiroc closed distance on the target planet at twenty thousand kilometers per hour. Directly to the heavy transport's right, the Yaska cruised along at the same speed, all of its systems running at full capacity, keeping track of anything that moved nearby, be it asteroid or scrap metal.

Ghelon, their target planet, was a whitish blue sphere orbiting a large yellow star, the distance just great enough that much of the planet's average surface temperature hovered above freezing. Nolta watched the crystalline surface grow in the view-screen as they neared orbital velocity.

"All ground troops to the cargo bay. Dust-off in five minutes."

Nolta rushed to the armory and found the soldiers lined up, each being handed a rifle and sidearm in addition to a thermal cloak. The fabric was designed with one side black and the other white, a reversible hood serving to cover the head and shoulders of the wearers.

Nolta accepted the items and made his way down to the hold, the thermal cloak draped across his broad shoulders. Once there, he witnessed the rest of the platoon in similar arraignment, featureless pillars topped with quarian helmets.

A loud series of hard clangs reverberated throughout the cargo bay and the large ramp lowered to admit a ferocious wind. White flakes swirled in as the gusts gathered in strength, buffeting each of the cargo hold's inhabitants. Nolta hurriedly pulled his hood over his helmet and held the cloak shut to bock out the cold, even as tiny flakes of snow landed on his visor.

Even compacted, the rifle on his back proved bulky enough to create a slight hole between the two lengths of the special material, admitting a frigid blast of air that seemed to soak though his suit and into his bones. Nolta shivered, repositioned his hands, and held the garment shut, immediately being rewarded by a tolerable temperature.

"Move out but stay close, it's easy to get lost in this kind of weather." Sergeant Nerril barked. The noncom advanced to the front of the pack, the barrel of his firearm protruding at a diagonal angle from the cloak over his shoulders.

Lae followed the group, flanked on one side by Rikka and on the other by Qell'Jehn. He could hear the sound of the platoon's collective footsteps as they marched though foot-deep snow, even over the raging howls of the wind. He felt the give beneath his feet and instinctively jerked his leg out of the snow. Qell suppressed a chuckle as the young man tentatively tried his other foot, then, realizing that he was being left behind, put on a brief burst of speed and fell in step.

Jehn's cloak was somewhat oddly shaped by an object mounted on her shoulders and it wasn't long before Nolta began to wonder what her specialization was. More likely than not, she was a heavy weapons specialist or a demolitions tech.

Several minutes of marching brought the soldiers to a large cliff. Sergeant Nerril directed the platoon along the top, parallel to the edge, referring to the sitemap stored on his omni-tool for positional data. Nolta caught a few fleeting glimpses of a dark grey object below, far out from the cliff, but couldn't make out any definite shape. It wasn't long before the unit began to descend and soon they were able to see the cliff face they'd been walking above minutes earlier.

Jagged blue ice protruded from the sides of the rock, giving the area a seemingly ethereal aquamarine glow. Nolta's breath stuck in his throat as he caught sight of the dark object he'd seen below. Much of it was hidden by snow and ice, but the majority of it protruded from the surface. It was long, dark, and clearly synthetic.

"Company, HALT!" Even without the radio, Nolta could hear the Sergeant's voice clearly. The team waited in silence, only the howling of the wind in the deep, bowl-shaped depression where they stood provided any noise. Small puffs of white mist trailed from each member of the platoon periodically as their breath met with the frigid atmosphere.

A brief, muted commotion rustled through the right side of the unit, drawing Nolta's attention towards a lone quarian female approaching them. Words were shouted between the woman and Sergeant Brasc as the two closed distance, then the volume died away once they were close enough to hear each other easily. Whatever they were discussing was swallowed by the inclement weather around the unit, and now that they were no longer moving, Nolta could feel the cold beginning to seep into his helmet.

"Company, MARCH!" The sergeant's bellow was followed by an immediate snap to attention and the platoon moved along the edge of the dark object buried in the snow. Lae discreetly ran an omni-tool scan on part of the object as they passed and quickly hid his arm from the biting cold. Not long after the last soldier had cleared the depression, Sergeant Brasc followed their guide into a hole in the ice.

Aquamarine walls curved up to meet in a graceful arch that formed the ceiling of the ice cave. Rikka's eyes followed each ripple as she drank in the gorgeous color of their shelter. Brasc cut in over their comms. "No firearms in here and no loud or sudden noises, we don't know how stable this cave is."

It took a few minutes to get the entire platoon inside, but the cave boasted ample room for both the soldiers and their gear with plenty to spare. Nerril made his way through the ranks, assigning various duties to the troops and having each check their equipment for thermal damage. "Nolta, you're on watch for the inside of the cave, Taar'Dei's scoped it as far back as three thousand feet, stays pretty bright most of the way back so you shouldn't have any trouble seeing anything that comes in."

* * *

"I don't know what gives Sarge, diagnostics mark it as fully functional, but I can't raise the Yaska or the Hieroc." Sere'Pallu vas Yaska turned another dial on the comm relay, tapped his omni-tool a few times and shook his head in frustration. Sergeant Brasc looked around. The storm had died down and the sky was a beautiful blue-green color. _Clear weather but jammed comms, not good._

He returned his attention to the soldier in front of him, busily slaving away at the obstinate communications device before him. "Can't find a thing wrong with it, it just doesn't want to work."

"Get it running by sundown, we need that link open."

"I'll do what I..." Pallu's words dropped off and the sergeant found his eyes drawn skyward again as he noted the tech's gaze fixated on something in the air. A mass of clouds had seemingly appeared from nowhere and a subtle topaz aurora wisped through the air. Slowly, the clouds parted, admitting a megalithic pillar of metal and rock.

Large gray rings rotated around the base and middle of the object, each adorned with wickedly long spikes. Golden lightning arced from the clouds to caress the stone modules orbiting the column's uppermost edges. Nerril stood transfixed until the object made contact with the ground roughly two klicks away. Every quarian in the cave and at its entrance felt the titanic tremor reverberate through their feet as a massive cloud of snow billowed from the base of the megalith.

"That's bigger than the Rayya…" Sere's voice seemed subdued.

"Everyone! Inside! NOW!" Nerril's orders did not have to be repeated and the few soldiers not in the ice caves made a bee-line for the entrance. "Defensive positions! Get the heavies-"

Brasc stumbled to the ground, thrown from his feet by a topaz energy beam. Several more energy weapons began to fill the air, accompanied by what seemed to be assault rifle rounds. Nolta pushed his way towards the front of the cave despite the protests of his bunkmate and several soldiers along the way. By the time he reached the opening, the young biotic was hardly able to see anything through the gunfire, smoke and snow being kicked up from the firefight.

Dark silhouettes danced in the white clouds at the entrance, ducking out from behind cover to loose a handful of rounds before taking shelter again behind whatever would shield them from enemy fire. Nolta dimly noted stray shots impacting the cave wall around him, chipping off bits of ice and rock. Out of instinct, Lae ducked down and drew his rifle, subconsciously backing away from the mouth of the cave.

None of the chaos in front of him made any sense, if he fired, he was just as likely to drop a friendly as one of the hostiles. In the commotion, he barely noticed his radio flare to life, Rikka's panicked voice assaulting his already overtaxed ears.

"Nolta, we've got hostiles coming in the back way, NOLTA! Where ARE you! ?"

Something in the back of the young man's mind crystallized, the sound of a fellow quarian in distress focused his racing thoughts into one, solid directive: _Defend_.

Again, he forced his way through the mess of soldiers, ordering some to follow, nearly spooking some of them into firing, but gathering enough of a following to bolster his confidence. The first rounds to strike at his position came from the right. Nolta instinctively snapped his rifle in the direction of the shot and loosed a pair of short bursts. A strange insectoid scream filled the air and two brown, chitinous creatures tumbled to the frozen floor of the cave.

In the few seconds he had to observe them, Nolta noted that the aliens seemed thoroughly insectoid, boasting not only chitinous brown shells but segmented limbs and bodies. He couldn't be sure, but it looked as though they also bore gossamer two pairs of gossamer wings. The examination was short lived, as a fresh set of the aliens appeared in the aperture, weapons blazing.

* * *

Author's Note:

**I know this is horrifically overdue, but I have worse news. There is a non zero possibility that I will not continue this fiction any time in the near future if ever. This is in thanks partly to my having gotten a very stressful job, which has induced a moderate case of writer's block, and to my having restarted on my own I.P. We shall see. On a lighter note, the soundtrack for Crysis 2 is FREAKING AWESOME!** **Just remove the spaces in the URL**

**youtube . com/watch ? v=yCEBLjJ-2l0&feature**


	22. Whiteout

**Chapter 22: Whiteout**

White crystals hung in the air, cut from the walls by stray rounds. Soft thocks accompanied each impact as the quarians exchanged fire with the insectiods.

Rikka saw Nolta go down, struck by some strange golden orb of light that seemed to detonate on impact. The blast was powerful enough to shake a thin layer of ice from the cavern walls and she briefly lost sight of everything as the powdered haze of frozen water covered her visor. Thanks to her thermal tracker, however, Rikka could tell where the heaviest fire was being directed.

Nall gritted her teeth and hefted a fallen marine's assault rifle. Even with a rubber stock, the weapon's kick rattled her jaw. Nall focused her shots at the flashes coming from the far back of the cavern, cutting down two of the unarmored hostiles. There was a brief lull in the fire, and she used that time to scurry over to Nolta's position. He was unconscious, but his vitals were as strong as ever, barring a few minor bruises according to his suit.

The young woman pulled him away from the back of the cave, firing a trio of bursts to cover her clumsy movement. An insectoid scream rewarded her efforts, but her relief was short lived. The rifle she'd been using was now flashing with an 'error' message, and there was no way she'd have time to perform maintenance on the firearm in the middle of a firefight.

Rikka opened her omni-tool, ready to loose an incineration blast on the next thing that came through the opening, then thought better of it. _The temperature differential that such an attack would cause could destabilize the cave._

_An overload would fry enemy weapons for a short time but was unlikely to cause damage to organic targets._ Despite the situation, Rikka chuckled at the thought of using a cryo blast in such an environment, but it honestly was her best option. Her moment of levity proved enough to clear her mind and she refocused on the opening.

The young woman's focus returned not a moment too soon. A trio of the hostile insectoids entered the aperture. The opening was just wide enough that the aliens were cramped shoulder to shoulder, blocking anything else from getting through in either direction. _A perfect shot._

Rikka loosed the cryoblast module at the three aliens just as one of them stepped forwards. Icy blue from the cavern's walls tinted the white streaks of flash frozen moisture from the tech attack. Jagged spikes of crystallized water appeared on the aliens' bodies as their shells' dark brown hue lightened to a soft tan color. If the hostiles had any blood, it would be a matter of seconds before the water within it expanded and caused severe internal damage.

Rikka's prediction was verified a second later; the insectoids' skin cracked, spraying black jets of flash-frozen ichor. An instant later, the lead hostile creaked and toppled to the ground, unable to move. Limbs and bits of chitin snapped off with the strange hissing sound of rapidly melting ice.

A stray round from the firefight at the other side of the cave indicated that the battle was going poorly. The young woman swung Nolta's arm over her shoulder and pulled him towards the back of the cave. Her foot bumped against a fallen sniper rifle and she stumbled. It took a moment to decide to bring the weapon along, useless though it would be in close quarters. Nolta would need a weapon too, once he regained consciousness.

Nall swung the sniper up to her shoulder and felt it snap into place. One of the aliens' assault weapons lay on the ground a few feet back. With a huff, she lowered Nolta to the ground, made a quick dash over to the weapon and hefted it to her back.

Nolta alone had weighed more that she was comfortable carrying, but the combined weight of two rifles and her bunkie had her straining after only a few minutes.

* * *

When he awoke, Nolta was able to tell that night had already fallen and that he was no longer in the ice cave. A subtle aquamarine glow shone from an icy overhang above him. _Perhaps some bioluminescent extremophiles? That would have explained the brightness of the cave._ The quarian noticed that his chest felt heavy and that he couldn't feel his left arm. A quick look down revealed that Rikka's left shoulder and arm were draped across his torso and her helmeted head rested on his shoulder.

A weak smile tugged at his features and he rested his hand on hers. He lay there for several minutes before the discomfort to his left shoulder caused him to unconsciously shift. Rikka stirred.

At first she seemed too groggy to take notice of the compromising position she'd ended up in, but the realization dawned on her as Nolta's chest rose, lifting her head. Nall practically jumped into a sitting position a few feet away from him, an action which caused the young soldier to shed any semblance of fatigue from his weary mind.

"Aw come on, Ah'm not that repulseve am I?" the joking tone in his voice helped alleviate Nall's embarrassment a little.

"No, I- I'm sorry," her eyes drifted to the snow dusted stone.

"Thenk nothen' ov et," the fact that he was smiling seemed obvious.

"I… s'pose you'll be reporting that?"

The young man propped himself up on one arm. "Why would Ah do a theng like that?"

Rikka's eyes searched the ground before coming up to meet his. "Then… you… don't mind?"

Nolta answered her question by scooting over to her and draping his arm across her shoulder. "Not en th' slightest." A relieved sigh escaped Rikka's mask. "Though Ah stell can't feel mah arm."

"Oh, Keelah! I'm sorry!" The young woman's hand came up to meet her faceplate.

Lae gave her a gentle squeeze and Nall felt her spine tingle. After a few moments Nolta forced himself to his feet. In the faint light from the ice, he could make out a hole in the snow a few hundred feet downhill, as well as a hastily obscured trail.

"How long was ah out?"

It took a moment for Rikka to respond. "Two, three hours maybe."

"Y' dragged me all th' way up 'ere?"

"Carried. I sealed the cave behind us with a grenade," she held up the two rifles she'd snatched on the way out. "Managed to bring these with. Which do you want?"

Nolta cocked his head to the side. "Ah'll try th' weird 'un," he accepted the firearm cautiously, as though merely touching it would set it off. Immediately, he could sense something buzz in his spine, almost as if the weapon were speaking to him. A faint blue aurora licked across the exterior of his suit and the buzzing intensified.

Nolta's teeth ground together as his implants seemed to rattle in place. Without thinking, he dropped the rifle in the snow and stepped back. No sooner had he put distance between himself and the weapon than the droning stopped. Lae reached back on his belt to check for his pistol. A smooth casing greeted his suit's gloves. "Maybe ah'll jest steck weth m' sidearm."

"What just happened?"

"Ah thenk the rifle enteracted weth m' implants." He holstered his pistol and tested his biotics on the snow, lifting a small sphere of crystallized water. As Rikka watched, the biotic made a motion with his arm as though casting a stone across a pond. A fist sized blue projectile impacted the floating ice and created a small cloud of powderized water.

"Everythen' feels normal- kinda."

Rikka tentatively brushed a hand against the alien rifle's casing. She hadn't had the opportunity or motivation to examine it in any great detail. Most of the weapon's exterior appeared to have been furnished from stone. No strange feelings assailed her as she picked it up.

"Seems fine to me."

* * *

They decided to spend the rest of the night sleeping in shifts. Nolta took first shift as he felt he'd done enough sleeping while he'd been knocked out. Shadows of the aliens milled about off in the far distance, distinguishable through the sniper scope only because of the world's strange luminescent quality. He couldn't tell what they were up to, but they were gradually working their way over to his and Rikka's position as the hours wore on.

One of the aliens in particular strayed away from the group and seemed to be nearing the pair at a much greater rate than its compatriots. Nolta decided that he'd have to take a shot within the next few minutes if it didn't alter its course. He gave Rikka a gentle shake on the shoulder. Nall woke with a slight grunt.

"What's goin' on?"

Nolta held a single finger up to his visor, signaling her to remain quiet. She nodded once as he sighted back through the sniper scope. He hadn't trained much with the weapon but at this range it was more of a marksman shot than a snipe. Lae drew a breath and let it out slowly as the tip of his finger tensed over the trigger. The rifle's kick bit into his shoulder and the barrel bucked upward.

He didn't hear the sound at first, probably his audio filters compensating to prevent any amount of hearing loss. The alien's body jerked and a spray of chitin flew from its broad forehead. Nolta watched in relief as the creature fell to the snow.

"C'mon, we hav t' move."

Rikka nodded and pried herself from the snow. Nolta started moving in a low crouch with the sniper rifle slung on his shoulder. The elder quarian's pistol was drawn, ready to fire at a moment's notice. Dark figures still staggered around the open plain off to their left, prompting Nolta to lead back in the direction of the cave. In the back of his mind, Nolta recalled part of his training that warned him to stay out of enemy occupied territory under conditions such as those in which he found himself.

The simple fact that the only known evac point could only be accessed through this area forced him to ignore that facet of training. Following Rikka's trail proved easy enough that Nolta couldn't help but wonder how the aliens hadn't found them yet. Upon reaching the entrance, the question was further compounded. A lone quarian soldier had managed to squeeze through the top of the cave in. A series of blood streaks on his suit told a grim story.

Rikka ran a hand over the multiple punctures in the back of the soldier's suit before powering up her omni tool to copy any dying messages he may have left.

"Ulri'Set vas Andras," She muttered as the devices synced. "Seems he left instructions for Field Marshall Jahg."

Nolta's curiosity got the better of him. "Encrypted?"

Rikka shook her head. "No, he didn't even try." She pressed a sequence of keys on the holographic display and a small screen hummed into existence above her arm.

"Jahg, you bosh'tet! I-" His sentence broke midway for a bloody cough. "You said it'd be a clean trade. The Collectors-" another cough. "Collectors flew in and… swarmed our damn outpost." The man's voice yielded to a hacking cough again and Nolta could tell these had been Ulri's last moments.

"Nolta's nowhere to be seen and the damn bugs're slaughtering…! What in Keelah's name… were you thinking? Should've just… handed the boy over to 'em on his… pilgrimage!"

"Keelah." Rikka felt the blood drain from her face. "You don't think."

Nolta's tone was grim. "Aye, That's exactly what ah thenk."

* * *

**Author's note: So, finally got back to it. Not sure if I'll close his story arc once they reach FP or Haestrom. Prolly Haestrom 'cuz that's what I'd written originally.**


End file.
